We're on the Same Team
by Millenia Marik
Summary: The unlikely story of a forming friendship between a Red Sniper and Spy on a team where no one expects to live long enough to sustain one. A bit of fluff, humor and drama. Feel-good reading. Rated M for language, violence, and suggestive/sensitive themes.
1. Act 1: Cigarettes

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

EDIT: Now updated with proper formatting (or as close as I could manage).

---

"Merde," he growled, tossing his pillow down roughly atop his bed and turning around with a scowl. Where the hell could they _be_?! Deft fingers again searched his suit pockets, narrow eyes cutting around the room distastefully as his search turned up absolutely nothing. He'd lost his cigarettes -- an entire pack!

The room, now a mess due to his angered fervor, hardly resembled that of the clean-cut Spy. Red team, unsung veteran -- A powerful ally, not that the rest of the team seemed to care.. They had other spies, other men; Heavies and Soldiers and Engineers..

"Bah!" He sunk down onto his bed, gloved hands curling around the edge of the mattress before beginning to wring around one another. It'd been over half a day since his last smoke. Since before today's battle in fact! His lighter had been found with ease, kept right inside his breast pocket as usual and.. alone without the presence of his beloved smoke sticks. A forlorn look on his face, he tried to fight off the twitchy uncertainty of withdrawal that came with his inevitable addiction.

**KNOCK KNOCKA KNOCK. **

A knock and whistle from out in the hall? Startled, the Spy shot to his feet, narrowly missing whacking his head on a shelf above him in his hurry to stand. Scowling, he stalked over to the door and tossed open the eye slot he'd had installed out of (practical) Spy paranoia. "Yes. What do you want," he spat tersely.

"Touchy li'le wanker, ain't yeh?" It was the Sniper; his drawl was almost unmistakable. But still, the Spy stood there, staring at the man through that slot and awaiting an answer. "Open up, would ya? I've got a present for you."

One of the man's slender brows arched, a gloved hand flicking the slot closed as he pondered the meaning of those words. Hah.. A present for a Spy? He glanced at the calendar. No way anyone would have been able to guess his birthday, that was classified information! Besides, who would want to? Come to think of it, he'd never even met this Sniper had he? Seen him around the base perhaps but..

Oh right, the door.

A few clicks later and it swung open, the lanky Aussie standing back in his usual relaxed fashion with a smug smirk on his face. The Spy didn't particularly like it but had little time to comment before a small silver rectangle was thrust up in front of his nose and wagged. His cigarette case!

"Merry Christmas, ya throat cuttin' wanker. Saw you drop these today, thought you might miss 'em." The Sniper's grey eyes glanced past the Frenchman, taking in the mess..

The Spy simply stared for a few moments before blinking and taking the carton. He then noted the Sniper's distant gaze, clearing his throat in a nervous attempt to distract him, "Ah, yes.. spring cleaning." He lifted the cigs a bit, "Zhank you."

"Hm? Well alright then, if you say so. I best be off," the Sniper said as he lifted a hand and jerked his thumb up the hall, "Medic's saying we all need flu shots. Dunno about you, but gettin' sick's _not_ on my to do list. Carry on then."

And off he went. The Spy watched after him, observing the awkward yet confidant way in which the Sniper stepped and then peering at the cigarettes in his hand. He blinked a few times at them, stepping back into his room and locking the door. It wasn't until he passed his mirror that he realized he was smiling. No, not smirking, not simpering, smiling!

It.. felt good.


	2. Act 2: We're On The Same Team

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

"That _Scout's_ a bloody_ Sp_--" he wrenched his knife out of the Blu Demoman's neck, glancing around rapidly to the sound of running footsteps. Quickly he cloaked and darted from the room just as a Blu Heavy charged in and sprayed the scene with overpriced bullets. It'd been two weeks since his encounter with the Sniper back at base, two long weeks of fighting and bloodshed. And for what? For the briefcase..

He felt its standard handle through the material of his gloves.

A simple, mundane little briefcase with the Blu team logo. Inside, he knew, were bits of information precious to the Red struggle. Perhaps the blueprints to the Blu's new weaponry? Their members had been out shooting Red terribly as of late, almost as if their firepower had been upgraded! Perhaps this little briefcase would enlighten them as to how..

But the Spy couldn't think of that now, already he felt his cloak wearing down as a Pyro rounded the corner ahead of him. He pasted himself to the wall and prayed to go unseen. ..phew. The Pyro charged after a Red Scout instead, missing the Spy entirely as he adjusted the cigarette clutched between his lips and slipped around the corner toward the Red base. He drew a long inhale, letting the smoke lay in his throat for a short while before exhaling it and starting to run. One last open area and he would be home free. One last.. **PEW! **A bullet cut into the ground right next to his foot, tearing a sizeable hole into the ground upon entry.

He veered leftward, taking cover behind a crate as more and more bullets peppered the area. Daring to peek, he found a Heavy laughing maniacally and continuing his barrage on the Spy's hiding place. Rapidly the crate was deteriorating and a few of the projectiles even penetrated the wood on the other side! Crouching low, the Spy held up the briefcase as a shield and looked around desperately for escape. Suddenly the firing stopped. He glanced around the ravaged crate and then upward to see.. Oh please.

A Red Sniper was waving at him from a tower up behind where the Heavy, now laying dead, had been. What dumb luck.. Wait a moment. He squinted, making out a familiar smirk. _THAT_ Sniper?

Before his shock could get him killed, the Spy gathered himself up and bolted once again. A few shot at him upon seeing the briefcase. A Pyro even charged after him, setting the ground on fire with his flare gun though the Spy easily leapt over the flames with his lean body. Now confidant, he smirked and drove himself up out of harm's way just inside the doorway to one of the Red base's hangars. Looking back at the battlefield, he watched his pursuers get picked off one by one by the Sniper and one of the Red's Demomen.

However, just as he turned to head inside, he saw the telltale smoke trail of a Soldier's rocket heading toward the Sniper's tower. He observed the nose of the man's rifle jolting and slipping back inside just before the rocket hit. But.. it was perhaps too late. The rickety building shuddered, the entire roof blowing off with the explosion and sending planks of wood high into the air..

"Yeehaw!" came a sudden voice from behind him.

Turning sharply, the Spy found himself faced with a Red Engineer who had pushed open the door for him.

"Looks like we got ourselves the briefcase! Nice work!"

Wordlessly, the Spy stepped inside, shutting his eyes and walking with purpose toward the briefing room with the case solidly under one arm, "Oui."

That evening the team gathered to discuss the findings. Not many showed up, only those interested in the current politics of the fight. Many preferred to simply do their jobs and be done with it, choosing to sleep and relax over planning the next attack. The Red Spy was rather glad for this -- less people, less explanation.

"And so, now zhat we have zheir intellijhence it should be no problem for our Engineers and Demomen to place us at an even level with zhe enemy," he said, gesturing about with a lit cigarette and turning his back on the small group. "Are zhere any questions?"

"You deserve a medal, Spy!" piped up a Soldier.

He smiled bitterly to that, nodding subtly as he turned and glanced between the men. No questions then.. "Zhen zhis meeting is adjourned."

With the documents locked safely in a.. safe, the Spy was free to head to his quarters. He did so quietly as he did with everything else, his footsteps soft and subdued in the barracks hallway. He couldn't shake it from his mind. That Sniper.. The triumphant smile he'd given followed by that damned rocket blowing it right off his face. There was no way he could have possibly survived. ..unless.

Pausing just outside his door, card key in hand, a tickling curiosity came to him. What if.. No way. _No one _could have survived a blast like that unless they were extremely light on their feet and had a direct plan for escape. They'd need to be attentive and have a.. a sharp eye for detail. ..they'd have to be a Sniper -- or a Spy.

He stuffed his card key back into his suit, turning to walk up the hall toward the medical bay.

The Medic was incredibly busy tonight. Suturing wounds, knocking people unconscious, bandaging lost limbs.. He mopped his brow for the umpteenth time that night, cussing in thick German under his breath as he washed his gloved hands once again. He was so busy tending his numerous patients that he barely noticed or cared that a Red Spy had entered the room. He pushed right past the lanky man, not so much as a brief 'pardon me' escaping his lips.

He didn't mind it much, no doubt the Medic was dealing with a lot of stress.. The Spy's calm eyes panned the room, landing on the Medic's clipboard which had been left out on the counter. It wasn't long before he was thumbing through it and reading the list of patients and their ailments. _Scout, head trauma. Heavy, torso impale wound. Pyro, 3rd degree burns_? He paused, lifting an eyebrow to that. _Sniper, broken leg, arm, burns_.. The Spy nearly read right past it, eyes moving back up to examine the rather painful list. Sniper? Well.. There were several on the team. But such a collection of injuries.. Could it be a coincidence? He felt his insides flutter at the concept.

The Spy dropped the notes and moved further into the room, attentive eyes scanning his fallen teammates in search of a specific..

"Aw, bloody 'ell.."

Following the sound of that groan, it wasn't long before the Spy arrived at the bedside of the Sniper who uttered it. He could tell the man was in a good deal of pain aside from the bandages and supports which sustained him. His hat was removed and clutched in one hand over his chest while the other remained bound up in gauze.. He stared down toward the foot of his bed, eyes tired behind those tinted sunglasses. Even his clothing was damaged, burn marks apparent on his vest and sleeves.

"Monsieur?"

Startled, the Sniper cringed, hurting himself a tad in the process and fixing the Spy with an annoyed glare. Upon recognizing him, however, he visibly relaxed and stared for a little while. "Well, well.. Oye wasn't expectin' any visitors todai."

"Indeed.." said the Spy, gaze distracted for a moment. Was he embarrassed? Should he have been? "I wanted to.. zhank you for today. You were key in obtaining zhe briefcase. I do not zhink the others are aware of zhat."

"G'aw," said the Aussie, waving his hat dismissively, "Oy'm just doin' my job, mate. Besides, we're on the same team. You know I look out for everybody."

"Huh!" the Spy sounded amused. Apparently the rest of the team did not share that sentiment.

"What's so funny?" asked the Sniper, brow arched over his glasses.

"Ah it's.. It's nothing."

Humming suspiciously, the Sniper replaced his hand at his chest and wiggled in a feeble attempt to get comfortable; it seemed nearly impossible on this makeshift medical cot. "Yea, well.. Glad I could help. Is that it then? Shouldn't you go get some rest for tomorrow?" He didn't appreciate being laughed at, much less after saving someone's ass and sacrificing his own.

The Spy looked a bit stumped, trying to play himself off cooly as he stepped away and came back dragging a chair behind him. Turning it about, he sat backwards on it at the Sniper's bedside and relaxed his arms over the spine of it. "You forget zhat I am a Spy. My usefulness to zhe team seems to end once everything is obtained from an enemy base.. Zhose documents should keep Red occupied for some time. I am sure zhe other classes can handle any intruders.."

"So you're off-duty then?" the Sniper inquired.

"In a manner of speaking.."

The Sniper went quiet for a little bit, looking around the room listlessly while the Spy simply chilled beside him. "Huh.. Well the Medic's not gonna like you millin' around like a kangaroo in 'is office. Best make yourself useful."

The Spy tilted his head a bit in question. Useful? But he wasn't a doctor. He wouldn't know the first thing about helping someone with their injuries much less--

"I am _**dying**_ for a cup of coffee. Think you can help me out, mate?"

Oh. Coffee.

"..but of course," came the startled Spy's reply. He got awkwardly to his feet and, casting an amused look down at the wounded Sniper, moved off to go and prepare it for him.

"Light on the sugar," he heard called after him, the quaint words putting a smirk on the Spy's masked face.

The Sniper grinned happily to himself, pumping his fist with a sense of triumph only to realize he'd done so with his broken arm, "God save the Gr-- **Agh! **_Ow.."_

The Medic finally rinsed his hands for the last time, peeling off his gloves and replacing them with a fresh pair as he looked around the room. Many of the stay-in patients were stable now and only two had died. A record! Most everyone was asleep at this point though he did catch sight of the Spy and Sniper conversing. Huh.. How strange to see those two interacting.

While he awaited the return of the Spy, the Sniper heard heavy steps approaching him before the nozzle of the Medic's health gun slid into view. The Sniper squinted at it and then peered up at the German physician who held it. "Thought you said only one charge a day for everyone?"

"Ja, vhell you are lucky today. Two of zhe men have died before reaching my care und so their charges have gone unused. Isn't zhat vohnderful?!"

The Sniper wasn't sure what to make of the grin on the man's face, but he wasn't going to complain about free help..

"Now, hold still, zhis vhill only sting a _little_ bit.."

The Sniper nodded, attempting to lay as still as possible. He knew what the gun did, vaguely. It could rebuild tissue and strengthen both skin and bone when fully charged. At the end of the night, he knew, the gun's power would be weakened. That's how they worked. You charged them every night and used them throughout the day like flashlights with batteries. But what the gun could not do was replace or repair things that weren't present. One of their Demomen had learned that the hard way with his eyeball..

Luckily all of the Sniper's bits and pieces were present, they merely required repair after the doctor had realigned his bones by hand. A mixture of old-fashioned medicine and futuristic technology.. Astonishing, really. He was lost in his thoughts at the moment the doctor pulled back the lever and a stream of red energy sunk into his side.

The Sniper jolted on the bed and hissed in a breath. His arm and leg bones snapped into place and sealed together, the burns on his skin seeming to evaporate. And while this mystical healing method seemed to repair instantly, what it left a patient with was incredible soreness and phantom pains..

Shutting off the device, the doctor smirked at the grimace on the Aussie's face, "Aww," he taunted, "Dat vhasn't so bad, vhas it, Fraulein?"

The Sniper choked a bit, reaching over to pat the man's arm, "Good job, mate. Thanks a bunch," he rasped. The Medic merely laughed and headed away to use his last charge on one of the more critical patients.

The Spy returned and eyed the medic as he walked past him, pausing near the Sniper's cot and startling when the coffee was suddenly snatched from his hands. "**Ah**! Careful with zhat, it's. It's hot. _Hey_!"

The Aussie clearly wasn't even listening, taking a heavy swig of the boiling hot beverage and swallowing with blatant disregard for the Spy's warnings. The Sniper desperately needed something to distract him from the pain in his limbs and what better way than scalding hot coffee? He flopped back against his pillow with a relieved groan and used his half-gloved index finger to wipe off his mouth. A smirk formed upon it, "Ah.. Now that's a nice cup of joe.."

"Very polite, I see," commented the Spy.

Turning his chair sideways, he sat down and rested one arm on the spine. He gestured with the other, "I see your friend has fixed you up a bit?"

"Yea, mate. Magic medicine gun n' all that. Hold this for me would you?"

"Uh," uttered the baffled Frenchman, the coffee mug suddenly back in his hand as the Sniper plunked his hat onto his head and began unwrapping his gauze jovially.

"That was a right lucky dodge, I'll say. Coulda been dead today."

"Indeed.."

The sniper chuckled, taking the mug back and curling his sore arm behind his head as he hiked his good leg and took another sip of coffee.

Noting this relaxed posture, the Spy procured his recently re-obtained cigarettes and took to lighting one. He began puffing at it when the Sniper spoke again, "Now how do you like that? We're both addicted."

"How do you mean?"

The Sniper merely lifted his mug, causing the Spy to peer at his cigarette and then shrug as he exhaled a bit of smoke and placed it back in his mouth.

"Heheh.. Go on then, why're you _really_ here? Spies don't make house calls unless they're out to kill somebody and I didn't taste any poison in this brew."

Frowning, the Spy allowed his cig to droop slightly, "..it is as you said. We are on zhe same team and I thought I should zhank you for your help."

"Izzat all?"

"..and for saving my life, I suppose."

"And?"

Puff, puff.

"And.. my cigarettes," he added after a moment, ushering a laugh from the Sniper.

"Hah! That's blinkin' brilliant.. See, I knew you weren't half bad."

"Non?"

"Nah; everybody says you Spies are a bunch've two-faced, cowardly wankers, but I've seen you on the field -- I've seen everyone. You've plenty of kills for us, you got into their base -- you even happened on the briefcase today. And.. you make a **damn **good cup of coffee. You can't be that bad, roight?"

"I suppose not," the Spy admitted, a touch of red forming behind his mask.

"So how 'bout it then, mate? Friends?" The Sniper extended a hand.

The Spy blinked stupidly at it and then fixed the man with a sour look of professionalism, "Having friends eez what gets a man killed in war, Monsieur Sniper."

"Roight, roight.. But you said you're off duty." He wagged his hand a bit, attempting to coax the Spy who, slumping his shoulders slightly, took the Aussie's hand and gave it a ginger shake, "Atta boy. Wazzat so hard?"

"I must apologize. Friendship is not.. _usual_ in my class."

"Hah, no doubt. But why botha fighting together if we don't all get along, eh? Kind of makes the victory feel shallow, dunn'it?"


	3. Act 3: The Issue

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

That question sat in his head for the next few days.

The Sniper and Spy parted ways and spent their time separately. The Spy helped to decode the encrypted information in the pilfered briefcase while the Engineering team attempted to make sense of the resulting blueprints. The Demolition team went about procuring the needed explosives and parts and it seemed all was going well on the project.

The first few days after the theft were met with heavy resistance as expected. Wave after wave of Blu Soldiers and Scouts and Heavies stormed the base though few if any made it past the well-placed Snipers.. A Spy or two sat guard inside the main foyers, each tending to their knives and pistols before using them to pick off any Blu stragglers who made it inside.

As the days wore on, however, Blu ceased its infiltration attempts. Red was simply too good at defending and throwing men away would solve nothing. So, with that in mind, an uneasy silence fell over the battlefields as both teams waited to see what the other would do next.

"Wonder what those Blu bastids are thinkin'," one of the Scouts mused to the Demoman beside him. They were eating lunch, as it happened.

"I bet they're thinkin' by _God_ we're lucky we doon't have that bloody annoying Scoot on _our_ side." He took a large bite from his sandwich, swiftly chasing it with a swig of moonshine.

The Scout scoffed, giving the grumpy man a look of indignity and running his index finger and thumb across the brim of his hat, "Yea, whateva.."

"They're probably thinking about what _we're_ thinking about," said the Soldier across from them thoughtfully as he stuck a spoonful of beans into his mouth.

"Ok, wait, wait.." the Scout lifted a hand and shook it for clearance, "So _we're_ thinkin' about _them_ thinkin' about _us_ thinkin' about _them_? ..Thinkin'?"

"It's a _damn _good possibility, son!" said the Soldier suspiciously, slamming his fist down on the table as if encountering a revelation. "..wait."

"Yeh'r all a bunch of bloody idiots," growled the Demoman. He then took a swig of his sandwich and a bite of his alcohol, confusing both his teammates and you for a moment or so.

"Howdy, what's the news todai?" chirped a Sniper, plunking down next to the Soldier with a predictable plate of mashed potatoes and gravy. Granted there were other things on the plate too, but gravy seemed to be the main course.. The tension at the table seemed to bristle and then subdue with the Aussie's arrival.

The Scout was the first to comment, "Oh yeah? And who told ya _you_ could sit wid' us?"

"Heheh.. Who said I _couldn't, _mate?"

The Scout sneered and took an unhealthy sip of his Bonk energy drink. The Soldier, thankfully, was more mature about things, "We're attempting to discern the enemy's modus operandi at the present moment!"

"..You mean you're tryin' ta figure what those blokes are doin'?"

"..Precisely," said the Soldier. He always had a habit of making everything sound official and epically important. Like the times he went to 'handle official business in the Red team latrine'. At least it sounded cleaner than the alternative -- rhymed too.

"Well, if we're goin' ta be talkin' aboot this bloody business, what d' _you_ think, Snipar?"

The man shrugged, getting started on his meal while compiling an answer for the Demoman. "I'd say they're antsy. We stole their secrets from roight under their noses n' now we're all cooped up not givin' 'em any signals. Jolly good, I wager. Those blasted Blus could _stand _to be a bit scared.."

They all stared at him for a moment, likely because of the gravelly voice he was using. Except the Demoman of course -- he shared that same Blu-hating sentiment with which the Sniper spoke. But, at the drop of a hat, the Sniper became cheerful again and smiled brightly, "So, I see we've gotten new rations. How's that for service? HQ must be real proud."

"Yea, we stopped dyin' so fast so they're rewardin' us by keepin' us alive a little longer," said the Scout dryly.

"I thought that's what your monkey piss was for?" said the Sniper, gesturing to the Bonk can with his fork.

"Man, shut the _hell_ up. No one even invited you over here."

The Sniper simply watched the Scout, letting him rant a bit as Scouts were known to do. Heck, it gave him time to eat some of his food.

"Besides, what good are you Snipers anyway? Hidin' in a tower pickin' off wounded people. Ooooooh so skilled." The Scout waved his hands sarcastically.

"Just out of curiosity, mate, who invited _you_ over?"

Neither the Demoman nor the Soldier fessed up to it, leaving the Scout with a half-opened mouth that he promptly filled with Bonk. He grumbled into the nearly empty can.

There wasn't much conversation after that, though that wasn't odd for the Red team. Oftentimes they talked business or grudgingly dealt with one another. The Sniper found his thoughts wandering as the mess hall began to clear out. That Red Spy was different, wasn't he? He'd given him thanks for his work and, on a more personal note, for his good deeds. Maybe after all these months of fighting, he could finally have a partner within the base. Someone he could really fight alongside and plan with. That's what this team lacked, he thought, direction and solid teamwork..


	4. Act 4: Rookie

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

The Spy glanced at the pills in his hand and sighed as he popped them into his mouth and chased them with some water. He then held the water bottle to his forehead, hoping to soothe the headache that was coming over him. Truth be told, he'd begun to feel under the weather over the last day or so. Nonstop he'd been helping with the decoding, the debriefing. Ugh.. Thank -god- it was finally finished. Now it was just a waiting game to see how quickly his team could make sense of the ill-gotten intel.

Peering out a bullet-proof glass window he watched one of the base courtyards. It was raining, he noticed. Terrible weather for fighting though he wouldn't put it past the Blus to try. The idiots.. An Engineer stepped past him hefting a large toolbox though he barely gave it any thought. Another sip of water. Ah.. Nice and cold. The corridor became busy then, a Demoman irritably discussing schematics with another Engineer pushing past the errant Spy. So he decided to move, headed toward the barracks and then his own quarters. He needed a nap. A good, long nap.

The Sniper geared up in his room, shrugging his vest over his shoulders and adjusting the sleeves of his shirt. He grabbed his Kukri, a bow, his rifle (and a midnight snack of course), and kicked the door shut behind him as he slung the heavy weapon up onto his shoulder and began walking..

As he stepped down the sparsely-populated halls of the Red Base, the Aussie took stock of his body. Getting to be in good shape now, little to no soreness in his previously-wounded areas and a bit of energy staying with him to help him stay up through the night.

Perfect.

He greeted the Engie guarding one of the warehouse doors with a tip of his hat, "Graveyard shift, mate, you know the drill."

"Right on, brother," came the man's relaxed reply. His Sentry gun blipped placidly beside him, barely even twitching as the burly man unlocked the door and threw it open for the Sniper to step outside.

Good_ lord _was it raining. A relative monsoon fell upon him as he heard the warehouse door clamp shut. Not two steps out from it and rain began rolling along the brim of his hat and dripping in front of his eyes. Alert, he stepped forth and strafed the side of the Red base as he headed toward his appointed tower. He knew rain wouldn't stop Blu from doing something boneheaded like charging a fully-fortified, sealed base.

Ten feet, fifteen, twenty. The Sniper glanced up the side of his tower but decided to skirt it a bit first. As he crouched low in the bushes, he could feel his shoes sinking into the muddy grass. Huh.. Not a target for at least a half mile. Time to head up. He retraced his steps backwards, mostly to avoid getting stuck in the mud puddles rapidly forming on the ground. That'd be an embarrassing way to die, he thought, being stuck in a puddle.

So he started climbing, gloved hands grasping the cold metal and wood as he monkeyed his way up. A ladder? No, not so mundane. Anyone could climb a _ladder_. It took real skill to climb the deathtrap of sharp metal and jagged wood the Snipers had built together. They were all in agreement that their towers were like miniature bases and as such should be as dangerous as fuck to all but those granted safe passage inside.

Up top was an escape rope to be used for bailing out. He'd used one himself against that Soldier's rocket though the blast had knocked him to the ground prematurely.. He decided not to think about it, swinging his lanky body around a protruding piece of metal and pulling his foot up onto it. Higher and higher.. He began to hum as he climbed, finishing a bar of '_God Save the Queen' _just as he opened the back door of the tower and slipped inside.

The Sniper began to shuck his gear and dropped his lunch bag onto a nearby crate while shaking out his rifle and bow. He plunked down on a stool beside the narrow-mouthed window at the forefront of the shack and took a dry rag from inside his vest. He didn't care much about himself, but his gun? That had to be kept in _top_ condition. Both it and the bow received the towel treatment, barrels and arrows being checked for functionality as he kept an eye to the blowing rain outside.

It was almost completely dark inside -- had to be during the night. A single candle could light up the entire cabin and destroy his chances of surprising the enemy. One of the Engies had proposed blue lighting along the floor, soft light which did just enough for the Snipers and not enough for anyone outside to peep in. It was by this that the Sniper maintenanced his weaponry and unloaded his snack -- a travel mug filled to the brim with fresh coffee. "C'mout c'mout whereva you are.." he whispered under his breath, dull eyes staring between the beads of rain as he took a measured sip.

"Right behind you.." drawled a voice.

The Sniper tensed, fully prepared to spin around though the barrel of a pistol pressed itself firmly against the back of his skull and tipped his hat up slightly. A goddamn Spy!

"Ah.. now just relax and nobody will get hurt, hm?"

"Interruptin' a man drinkin' 'is coffee, that's _real _polite."

".."

The Sniper daringly glanced over his right shoulder but the gun only shifted to his temple. He could see the Spy now or, at least, his gloved hand. But he only scoffed and pulled his mug up for another drag, "Out with it then. I ain't gonna pop up and spill this. Be a waste of effort.."

"Very well," the Spy said confidently, "Tell me everyzhing you know. What is Red doing wizh our intelijhence?"

"Jolly good question, mate. See, I don't know if you know what a guy in a tower does, but he id'n't a Spy, see. I got no idea what they're up to nor do I car--"

Annoyed, the Spy thrust the gun forward, effectively pinning the Sniper's head against the planks of his sniping post. His coffee, thankfully, quivered but failed to drip. The Sniper slowly placed it down atop the crate.. "Well.. I guess _this_ is the part where people get hurt, eh?"

"Tell me what you know!"

"Go diddle yeh'r mum."

_**There**__._

The moment he'd wanted. The Blu Spy's eyes widened with sudden anger and he knew that the moment they narrowed with focus that trigger would be pulled. It was then that he threw his head down with all his might and shoved his shoulder into the Spy's stomach.

**BLAM!**

The pistol went off. The Sniper's hat rolled to the ground as both men hit the floor of the shanty. Quickly moving to pin the Blu bastard, the Sniper grabbed his wrists and twisted until the Spy cried out and dropped his weapon. A struggle ensued though the Sniper could tell the scrawny Spy could do nothing under his weight. After bucking a few times, the Blu lay seething beneath him, "Zhe moment you let go of me, I shall kill you! I'll gut you like a Cornish game hen!"

"Roight, see, the problem with that is that I don't _feel _like letting you go. See, I was _**going**_ to, but getting killed really turns me off to the whole idea."

A growl from the enraged Frenchman beneath him only amused the Sniper even more. He was a very patient man and Spies, he'd come to learn, were not as much. They liked being on top, they liked being right, and they liked getting things done quickly.

So it was no surprise that the Red Sniper decided to take things slowly!

"So tell me, mate. How's things on the Blu side? You guys have really got to be desperate sending just one guy to try and weed us out."

"I am not _a-lone_. Several of my colleagues wait below zhis tower for my signal so I suggest you unhand me at once!"

"Roight, so you can kill me. I got that part. And ah.. What's this about colleagues? Heheh.. Ain't anybody 'round for a _mile_, mate. Didn't you see the sentry parked out front?" The Blu Spy sneered past the perimeter of his face mask. Indeed he had come alone, scaling the tower half an hour before the Sniper had come out to his post and simply waiting for him.

"How's it feel to be caught lyin' your first day on the job, hm?"

The Spy looked startled. First day?! _Sacre bleu_! How in the world did the Sniper know??

"Field's a lot different than trainin' ain't it? You're a new recruit -- I can tell by the way you hesitate.." The Spy wordlessly glared death up at him. "Mate, let me give you a very useful, borderline traitor, bit uh' advice.. Never interrupt a Sniper when he 'asn't had 'is coffee yet. _Never_ do that."

"I shall see you in _**Hell**_!"

And that's when the Sniper collapsed his weight over the Spy, ramming both elbows into the man's chest and knocking the wind out of him with an audible woosh of air. Stunned, the Blu Spy could not fight back as the Sniper gingerly hopped to his feet and punted him out the back hatch of the watch tower, "Tell Blu Team oye said hello!" It swung shut behind the sailing Spy who, the Sniper observed with a hand to his ear, shrieked as he fell to the ground.

He lay in the mud as a string of agonized French, Italian, and Spanish curses left his lips. The Blu Spy whined and rolled over, flicking on his dying cloak and dagger device long enough to crawl back toward Blu Base with a broken leg and god knows how ruined a spine. Though the rain came heavy, he could hear the Sniper up in his tower, laughing. He fully expected to be sniped once his cloak wore off but the bullet never came. _Ugh.. _Damned Snipers. He'd been told they liked to 'play with their food' as it were, but this was just humiliating.

He could almost feel the scope on his back, _watching_ him..


	5. Act 5: Frog In Your Throat

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

That Spy never did come back that night. His supposed colleagues? No show from them either as the Sniper mounted his rifle and panned the area with his relaxed gaze. After a few hours of keeping watch under thunder and occasional lightning, he leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. He shook out his arms and had a bit of coffee.

Back to the scope.

This process continued through the night, his position changing every so often as he reset his gun at the various designed portholes of the tower and eventually drained that tall mug dry.

The Red Spy pulled himself reluctantly out of a good dream. He was on a killing spree, deftly ending the lives of Blu after Blu and quite literally dancing astride the bullets they tried to throw at him. The thrill of battle, the joy of being an expert on his feet. He felt invincible! ..and particularly cozy as his eyes slid open to view the world through a bleary gaze.

He hummed softly and stretched his long body from the head of his bed to the foot of it, allowing his limbs to relax as he pondered the relative merits of moving. Well, he could go and get breakfast, a shower was definitely in order too.. He should also probably brush his teeth and wash that sick taste out of his mouth. What the hell was that anyway? Rolling onto his side and tucking his hands beneath his pillow, he suddenly pinched his eyes shut and moaned.

A headache, one which had been present all along, flared to the front of his senses as he turned. He was briefly disoriented until he laid still for a while. "Mmmgh," he grumbled, sounding angry about it. Wasn't sleep supposed to _soothe_ a headache?? It felt ten times worse than he remembered!

"Oh pleeeease," he whined, pulling his knees up into a curl as he tried to will the incessant pain away. When that didn't work, he grunted and decided he'd simply work with it, pushing himself up with a hand to his temple and taking a step out of bed.

_Woah_ -- _**whoops!**_

He stumbled a good bit, crashing into his wall and steadying himself against it. His balance seemed to be all types of off and his limbs felt sore and heavy with every step he tried to take. What in the world?! Stress couldn't do this, could it? No, it couldn't, he decided. It must have just been a waking grogginess and it would wear off once he got into the shower. .. hopefully.

Gathering himself in front of his mirror, the Spy huffed and removed his balaclava in order to comb his hair and place it back on properly. His next task was to straighten his tie, put on his gloves and jacket, and step out into the open base on his way to the 'latrine' as the Soldier class so affectionately called it. In truth it was a rather clean set of showers and bathrooms. Private stalls, quality towels (complete with the Red logo, of course), and an amazing lack of graffiti.

This, in part, was due to the fact that the entire team helped to maintenance them, taking shifts to be sure no one got shorted on the tedious work.

Due to the necessity of the facilities, the washrooms were located quite near to the barracks. It should have been no problem for the Spy to get to them, but he found it more and more difficult to walk straight down the hallway. His grace was slipping, and he half limped/half veered into the wall before stopping entirely and laying his hand against it for support.

This simply would not do! He shook his head to clear it, instantly wincing and deciding that was a terrible idea. His hand flew to his temple again and a few sharp curses escaped him. It was early morning, few were awake and most of them were top-side on duty or getting to work on the weapon upgrades. As a result, the hallways felt hollow to him. On the plus side, he thought, no one would be seeing him in his moment of weakness.

..or so he thought.

The dust-laden heels of the Sniper's shoes tapped dully against the spotless floor of the barracks hall, his arm swaying at his side while the other remained curled around his rifle. It wasn't the same walk the Red Spy had observed those weeks ago, no. Today he more resembled the Sniper he'd been in the infirmary. Head hung low with drowsiness, the Aussie plodded in the direction of his room. The promise of a soft, dry bed called to him, and boy was he ready to answer!

The Spy picked himself up, almost holding his breath in an attempt to keep himself looking sharp as he adjusted his tie and pretended to be looking at his watch. The Sniper noticed him, a smile creasing the weathered lines of his face as he stopped nearby, "Top of the morning, mate. Or good night, I guess."

A chill was creeping up on the Spy, but the Sniper began to take note that the man was actually sweating involuntarily. The rain had cooled everything down, something had to have been amiss..

"Everything all right then?" he asked.

The Spy smirked, or tried to. He was fully prepared to pull an act on the Sniper -- he was the master of disguise after all! "Right on zhe point, Monsieur Sni.. Ouh.."

A twinge of nausea overtook him and when he recovered, he found the Aussie facing him more directly with a look of concern, "Look mate, you don't look so well."

"Jhust a headache, I am sure it will pass.." the Spy then swooned, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him.

The Sniper grimaced with the corner of his mouth, frowning and stepping up to clap a palm over the Spy's masked forehead. The Spy seemed a bit startled by that, but effectively went cross-eyed and tilted under dizziness. "Aw good _gravy_, you're burnin' up, mate!"

"Oh.." the Spy murmured docilely. He felt as though he'd fall down at any moment, his feeble attempts at remaining self-sufficient swiftly falling under the effects of this mystery ailment.

Words could not describe the relief he felt when the Sniper hooked his free arm under one of his own and kept it around his back so that he could support him. "Let's get you back to your room, mate. I'll see about gettin' the Medic t' you," the Sniper said worriedly. He walked deliberately with the Spy at his side, keeping things at a pace his ill teammate could keep up with.

For once? The Spy did not mind doing things slowly; it kept his head from swirling..

"Where's your key, mate?"

"Jhust a moment.." said the Spy as they came to a pause in front of the door.

He reached for and missed his suit jacket twice before achieving a look of determination and managing to slip his hand inside to grab his card key from a secret pocket there. It was all he could do to lift and swipe it in the card reader before he found himself relying heavily on the Sniper's arm for support.

Opening a door in this manner was especially challenging though he wasn't about to make the Sniper do it without a free hand.. By the grace of gravy, it swung open with ease and the Sniper shuffled him inside. He quickly set down his rifle and used both hands to grab a hold of the swooning Spy and maneuver him toward his bed.

"You must never speak of what you see in zhis room," the Spy warned half-heartedly.

The Sniper gathered that he meant the various charts, posters, and papers laid out around the room and couldn't help but smile at the professional quality of the man's request. But he was a professional too; he had standards.

The Spy sat heavily, trying hard to look composed in front of his teammate as he pulled his gloves more tightly over his fingertips and cleared his throat.

"Now don't go runnin' off on me, eh? Oy'm gonna leave the door open and go get you a Medic."

Instantly the Spy wrinkled his nose and frowned up at him, "Open? That is unacceptable, someone could zee inside and--"

"Roight, so don't die, I'll be right back," concluded the Sniper who, perhaps as an act of faith, left his rifle behind to go and fetch help. Sputtering after him, the Spy simply resigned to his fate and lifted a hand to his face to try and feel the fever the Sniper had indicated. Huh.. So he was ill, was he? How could that have happened?

Illness, he thought, what a pain in the ass. It was one of the few things the Medic couldn't just zap away with his gun. The technology simply worked to repair and replicate existing tissues, not to remove or destroy harmful bacteria. It's why the team utilized antibiotic pills and antique medical practices like sutures. Nothing came without a price..

Nobody was quite sure what to make of a Sniper running through the Red base like a lunatic. It wasn't the lunatic part that got to them -- Snipers were always considered a bit off -- but the running? It was enough to raise some alarm. His speed prevented them from stopping him and asking the cause, but a Heavy unwittingly put a stop to that as the Red Sniper coasted around a corner and ran straight into the man's back.

_**BOOMF!**_

Repelled from the Heavy, the Sniper stumbled backward rather comically and fell on his ass dazed. Oh lordy.. Heavies? Brick walls? He honestly could not tell the difference at the moment.

The hulking Russian, having felt a tickle behind him, turned around and stared dumbly at the fallen Aussie before a wide smile broke across his face. His laughter boomed down the hall as he reached down and grabbed the skinny man by the vest and pulled him easily to his feet. He even went so far as to dust the Sniper off like a dropped object. "Why is little Sniper running through base?" he asked, grinning and looking curiously at him.

'Little Sniper' got his act together, straightening out his glasses with a mild frown as he tried to edge around the Heavy. It was quite a feat, the hallway seemed a tight fit for the burly man. "Sorry about that, mate," he apologized, "Oy'm in need of a Medic. Think it could be serious."

"Sniper want for me to get Medic? Ok!" The big man turned to look up the hall and put a hand to his mouth.

"Well no, you don't really have to, Oi can just--"

**"MEEEDIIIIIIIIIC!" **the Heavy bellowed, his strong voice roaring through the base and briefly driving the poor Sniper deaf.

He held his ears with a look of shock, snapping his fingers beside one a few times just to be sure it wasn't going to be permanent. It wasn't, but that didn't do much to soothe the ringing now present in both.

"I am coming!!" came the reply call from far up the hallway.

The Sniper continued checking his ears, making sure blood wasn't dripping from them as the sound of booted footsteps approached at a running pace. It was the Medic, a look of grim business on his face as he screeched (rather audibly) to a halt and glanced between the two men, "Ja? Vhat is zhe problem?? Heavy, are you injured?"

The Heavy looked very pleased and slung a beefy arm around the Sniper, crushing him against his side, "Sniper need help from Medic. Is **urgent**." His expression suddenly grew serious.

The Medic's icy eyes turned toward the crushed Australian, a look of distaste coming with them. After a few moments of waiting and watching the Sniper struggle he demanded, "Vhell? Vhat is it?? Don't you dare make me come running und zhen just stand zhere!"

When the Heavy realized he was choking the poor bastard, he let him go. The Sniper let loose a couple of rough coughs and held up an index finger while recovering, "S'not me, mate. ..guh. -haff- One've our Spies is ill. I dunno what 'e's got but you'd better come have a look."

"Zhe Spy?" asked the Medic, his shoulders relaxing as a perplexed look crossed his chiseled face, "Heh.. Ja, I vhill come and see. Lead zhe way, Fraulein.."

The Sniper coughed into his palm at that moment, missing the insult, "Huh?"

"I _said_ let's **go**, I vhill not stand here all day!"

The Sniper's eyebrows shot up a bit, a step taken backward at the Medic's sudden and almost manic change in behavior, "Oh.. ok, come along then."

"Good luck to little Sniper and Medic!" the Heavy called after them, waving one of his giant arms and stomping off in the opposite direction in a carefree fashion.


	6. Act 6: Diagnosis & Eggs

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

I'm dying, he thought. I am laying here and I am going to be dead soon.

One by one, his limbs ceased to respond to him, failing to move despite his best efforts to get up. His eyes narrowed with grim resolution. He could see that light.. His life flashed before his eyes: France, Italy, the beautiful coast of Southern Afric-- .. Oh wait, that was the world map hung above his bed.

The Red Spy stared at it until the recognition clicked and he frowned in an almost disappointed fashion. He wasn't dying? ..damn. So much for dramatics. The rest of it stood true, however. Against his will he'd fallen onto his side though rolling onto his back was his own idea. Hurt less, let him see more. A good strategic move! He couldn't see the door from here, but he knew it was open. Ugh.. Open meant vulnerable and oh did he hate being vulnerable.

Luckily, when he heard voices, they were familiar.

"Roight this way, I've got him on the bed."

"Ja, ja, just stick around so you don't spread zhe germs.."

The door slid open even wider on its well-oiled hinges, granting the Medic and his bulky equipment entrance into the Spy's room. The Sniper was soon to follow, peering toward the Spy as he finally shut the door and leaned back against it.

"Don't _touch_ anything, the Spy croaked at the Medic who had glanced around briefly.

After assuring there were no booby traps in the room, the Medic grunted and stepped up to the man's bedside to assess the damage, "Vhell, Spy, vhat seems to be zhe trouble?"

The Spy took a quick inventory of himself, trying to keep things concise, "Headache, soreness--"

"Sore vhere?"

"Everywhere? Nausea.. uh.. headache." He'd said that already, but in his state he didn't much care.

"Und fever," the Medic added, observing the Spy's moist forehead.

"Oui.."

The Medic clucked his tongue, adjusting his glasses with a gloved hand and stating rather matter-of-factly, "You heff zhe flu."

"The flu?" the Sniper asked from the door.

"Zhe flu," repeated the Medic who looked pointedly at the Aussie.

"How? We were all just vaccinated."

"I'm afraid not," murmured the Spy who received an eye roll from the Medic.

"Ja, I vhas wondering why you never showed. Dummkopf.."

"So I forgot, sue me why don't you!"

"Open vhide und say 'ah' for me."

"Wha--mmph!" the Spy choked a bit on the thermometer which was rudely shoved under his tongue, eyes widened at first but then narrowed with annoyance. The fever got the best of him, however, and he soon returned to the thready dream-state that had occupied him before the two men arrived.

When the little device beeped, the Medic removed it and hummed with a nod of his head, "He is in danger of dying if he is not cared for." The words came with a surprisingly neutral tone as the German peered from the numbers to the Sniper.

"Well.. You're the Medic aren't you?"

"Ja, but you're available."

"What? Hey!"

"I have plenty of vherk to do, Herr Sniper. Of course.. If he dies, I doubt anyvhone is going to cry about it." He shrugged.

The Sniper frowned out of annoyance, bowing his head slightly and asking decisively, "What does he need then?"

The Medic beamed with the idea of forcing medical knowledge upon someone who probably didn't want it, his first happy smile of the day appearing as he wrangled the Sniper into a half hour explanation of how to treat a severe case of the flu. The Sniper, already tired from his night shift, was forced to take notes. Literally. He found paper in the Spy's desk (the back of which was printed with confidential information) and wrote things down. The main idea seemed to be 'keep the fever down' or else, as the Medic had so fondly put it, the Spy's head might melt.

It was no surprise that relief washed over both men once the Medic clopped away with his kit. He did leave a few things behind, however. An unfrozen ice pack, the thermometer, and a children's book. Hell knows how the man got it, but he'd left it, telling the Sniper he could read to the Spy if he thought it'd increase his chances of staying alive. The Sniper didn't find it particularly funny. This was a man's life they were discussing! A fellow team mate! Didn't anyone's life have a value anymore?

The Sniper seized the Spy's key card, moving to and from the room a few times in search of supplies. He tossed the Medic's ice pack in the trash can on the way to the mess hall, making one himself with fresh ice from the community freezer, a zipper-shut bag, and a towel from the lavatory. He also pilfered breakfast for himself and the Spy, his being, surprisingly, a can of Bonk. An energy drink? It was the only smart choice to make. For the Spy he decided on tea and scrambled eggs. Something easy on the stomach and well within the Sniper's limited cooking ability.

As the door clicked shut for the last time, he set everything aside and approached the Spy with his handmade ice pack, dragging the chair from the man's desk to bedside and sitting in it as he eased the chilled towel against the Spy's forehead. He cracked open his can of Bonk, sniffing it suspiciously and grimacing as he took a gulp. Mmgh. Not coffee, that's for sure. He wasn't sure how the Scouts around base handled the stuff, but they all seemed to be addicted to it. Maybe it was their secret for being so speedy.

Speaking of which, he was shocked by how fast it perked him up. Perhaps such a large gulp wasn't a good idea for a first-timer? To be safe, he set the can aside and wiped his mouth as he looked toward his 'patient'. He blinked hard and rolled his eyes to adjust to the sudden influx of alertness and cleared his throat. The Spy didn't even respond, his eyes closed for the time being. Huh.. The man's chest rose and fell in a rhythmic though painstakingly slow fashion; at least he wasn't dead yet.

The Sniper moved the bag around a bit, pondering removing the Spy's mask in order for the ice to be more effective. Hm.. Best not to do that without permission. The Spy still had a knife on him somewhere and who knew if he was actually unconscious? Well.. A flu, huh? The Sniper gave it some thought. Was this really going to be his full-time job? He couldn't very well drag the Spy into his tower just to watch over him. He'd simply have to forgo that duty for a while.. A day? A week? He wasn't sure, but he'd already made up his mind that if the Medic wouldn't tend to him, he'd do it himself.

"Monsieur Medic?"

The Sniper blinked, his thoughts of comradery and time away from his post being broken up by the voice of the Spy. His eyes were open a bit now, he noticed, though they were staring straight up.

"Not as such, mate," he said, sniffing idly and pulling his chair a little closer.

"Mon dieu.. what is going on.." he moaned quietly. His headache was constant now and, as it happened, spreading heavily throughout his entire body. Despite the sweat rolling off his brow, the Spy twitched now and then, shivering..

The Sniper took note of this, balancing the ice bag over the Spy's head and patting his arm as he got up, "Hold still for a moment there." The Spy tried to glance around, able to see the Sniper's back and recognize him as he moved to the foot of his bed and retrieved a secondary blanket meant for cold nights.

The Spy fumbled with one hand, trying to reach up and remove the ice bag though the Aussie was already turning around and looking at him, "Oh no you don't, mate. Doctor's orders." Grabbing the Spy's hand, he forced it back against the mattress and spread the blanket over him. "You've got the flu, remember? No runnin' around, no schemin'.."

The Spy opened his mouth to retort.

"And no bitchin'. God knows you'll want that energy to recover with."

Effectively hushed, the Spy blinked and narrowed his eyes in an annoyed manner. Was the Sniper trying to boss him around?! In any case, the Australian sat back down and took hold of the ice bag again as he repositioned it, "Lemme hold this here a li'le while. Medic says I ought to cool you down or you'll melt like a crayon in the sun n' I, for one, don't wanna be responsible for that mess."

The Spy sighed through his nose, feeling his headache dissipate slightly as it responded to the cold of the ice. The blanket felt nice too, he noted.. But the more pressing question was where was the Medic? The answer dawned on him just as quickly as the question had come to mind: The Medic left to help someone of more importance. Someone with more of a chance to live. It was strictly professional, he knew, but.. it stung.

"I brought you some breakfast, mate. You just lemme know when you feel up to it, savvy?" The Spy blinked in surprise. He brought him food? Breakfast in bed? ..huh. He'd always known Snipers took their work seriously. They came prepared and even prepared for preparation. So.. If he'd been tasked with looking after the Spy, no doubt he'd gotten himself well prepared for that as well.

"Perhaps in a short while. ..Monsieur Sniper?"

"Yeh?" he picked up the Bonk again, reading the list of contents with a somewhat frightened look on his face.

"You are not obligated to do zhis, you know. I am fully prepared to face death should zhat be what comes for me. Eet was my own fault not going to zhe Medic and I am entirely responsible for--"

"Oh hold on, hold on. No. _No'w_, mate. That's bonkers. Bloody 'ell that's downright _stupid_." The Sniper lifted the ice bag and dropped it in a punishing fashion at which the Spy cringed. "Christ-in-a-basket, mate, if I thought you were gonna die I'dda put you outta your misery before I sat here playing mommy to you."

The Spy opened his mouth, shut it, and weakly arched an eyebrow, "Why are you talking so fast?"

"Now what in the world does that have to do with anything?" He eyed the can of Bonk, took a careful sip from it, and then put it far from him. Likelyit was the culprit for his energized speech. "Look.." The Spy looked and saw the Aussie's stern features soften somewhat, "It's either this or go sit in a stinkin' tower for twelve hours takin' potshots at the breezes." He blinked behind his shades, shrugging and sitting up a bit, "A'sides, we shook hands on it; we're friends. Now you lay there and you get better like nobody's business."

The Spy glanced over to the wall and then back, shrugging his shoulders in a confused fashion. Ok then? "I zhink I can handle breakfast," he said cautiously, unsure of the Sniper's current temperament.

"Aw'right then, mate." He re-balanced the ice and then pushed his chair back to stand. With his back to the Spy, he approached the desk and picked up the tray he'd snitched from the mess hall. The tea had gone lukewarm, he could tell from the lack of steam, but he'd love to see the Spy try and complain about it. "I wasn't quite sure what a Spy's mum would make for 'im, so I decided to go the default route. 'ere's your complimentary international breakfast."

The Red Spy found it in him to maneuver a bit and hold the ice pack to his head as he sat up against the pillows. The ice seemed to help quite a bit, working with the soft blanket to soothe him even as the Sniper came back and laid the tray awkwardly in his lap. Room service? Never happened to him before, not on the job at least.

"He says you might die, you know," the Sniper mentioned off-handedly.

"Yes, I happened to be listening.."

"So that means you're going to be seeing more of me until it's gone."

The Red Spy paused with a forkful of egg near his mouth but then went ahead and ate it with a weak-shouldered shrug, "Is zhat supposed to be good or bad news? I cannot tell."

"Depends.." said the Sniper, removing his hat to scratch his scalp, "How's my cooking?"

"You'll be here if I start choking, yes?"

The Aussie couldn't help but be amused, scooping up the Bonk and moving to sit in his chair. He put his hat back on, "Yeh, I suppose I will."


	7. Act 7: Babysitting

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

Things only seemed to get worse for the Spy's condition as the day went on. Soon he could barely move at all which immediately brought several curious questions to mind. How would he shower, how would he use the restrooms, and, most importantly, when could he get back to slinking around the base? He loved slinking. It felt amazing sneaking past people and being stationary only caused him to long for the simple freedom of walking around on his own steam. He felt twice his weight and pinned down; it was a horribly restless feeling though the Sniper seemed to be trying to keep his mind off of it as they shuffled up the hallway together.

"Well, I suppose you could use the handicapped shower."

"..We have one?"

"Sure we do. What do you think the Demomen hold onto when they wake up with a hangover?"

"Very well. I am sure I can handle it on my own."

"There's a trooper!" the Sniper said supportively, adjusting his hold on the Spy as he more or less dragged him into the room.

An Engineer was washing his hands in there and he glanced over curiously as the pair entered. "Woah now, you boys are headed the wrong way. Infirmary's on the other side of the base."

"I am _well _aware of zhat," the Spy said irritably.

The Sniper quickly spoke up to cool off the situation, "He'll be fine. Just needs a bit of help gettin' around is all. Thanks for the concern, mate."

"Right on. If you say so.." the Engineer said with an unconvinced scratch of his head. He took his glove from the side of the sink and put it back on as he headed around them and exited the room shaking his head.

"Can we hurry zhis up? I don't want to have to _explain_ myself to everyone who comes in here."

The Sniper was already moving again, "Sure, sure. Roight this way then."

It was getting to the stall which was the hard part; once there, the Spy was able to support himself against various walls and maneuver enough to take care of himself. The Sniper took the hint and went to go grab a magazine.

"I'll be around, mate, just give a holler when you need me," he said as he tossed his empty drink can into the trash. He heard angered French muttering from the stall and smiled as he strode out.

That poor angry bloke, thought the Sniper as he leafed through a hunting magazine out in the hall. He supposed he had reason -- after all, several things as of late could have gotten under the Red Spy's suit. Lack of stealth, lack of self-defense, and being slowed down. As he crossed off the mental checklist, he hummed and admitted that perhaps he was getting off lucky where the Spy's rage was concerned. Along with that hum came a yawn and he was late to put a hand up over it. Ugh.. How long had he been up now, 72 hours? Power naps had been sustaining him, but even those combined with the Bonk weren't going to save him from the inevitable sleep he needed.

Still, he was a Sniper. He dealt easily with drowsiness and knew he could force himself to be alert if needed. After all, his job commanded stamina and utter control of his body. Staying up for days at a time was nothing new to him. Babysitting a Spy, however, was something he'd never encountered. It was around half an hour later that he decided to check on his ward, tucking the magazine under one arm and pushing the washroom door open to step inside. He couldn't immediately see him, but that was fine and good. It wouldn't do to have the showers directly facing the door, would it?

"Still alive in here?" he asked, glancing about.

"Somewhat," came the belated reply. The Sniper followed it, coming around the bathroom stalls to find the Spy re-clothed and leaning fully on a wall. He was slumped, it wasn't a suave lean from what he could tell.

"Come, let's get out of zhis place."

"What, you mean you don't want to admire the architecture?"

The Spy shot him a pointed, unamused look. He was already grudging in accepting the Sniper's help. He had a lot of pride and wasn't very willing to toss it up on account of a silly handshake in the infirmary. Frankly the Sniper could care less about the Spy's pride issues. He walked right over and grabbed the man by the arm to start dragging him away. The Spy came with him but promptly stumbled and emitted a grunt of annoyance at the incapability of his own legs, "Merde!"

The Sniper sighed gruffly, "You want to get this done quickly, mate?"

"But of _course_, you idiot. Do I _**look**_ like I am having a good time?"

"AGH! Mon dieu, what do you zhink you are you doing!" he flailed as best he could when the Sniper finally got fed up and scooped the wobbly Spy up into his arms bridal style.

"Watch your head, _mate_," he warned as he pushed the door open with his back and stepped out into the hallway.

The Spy was too distracted with rage to take notice of the door frame and so received a gentle bop on the head from it as he was carried through. Dizzied and upset, he sputtered uselessly in French! The Sniper didn't really mind. He simply carried the frothing Frenchman back toward the barracks despite anyone they encountered along the way.

A Demoman paused as they passed him by, blinking and lifting the bottle of whiskey in his hand to peer suspiciously at it..

The Spy quickly realized his hissy fit would only embarrass him in public and so decided to to grouse silently in the Sniper's hold. He refused to meet eyes with the man, not that could past those dark glasses. Instead he just folded his arms and tried to think of something other than his pounding head. He watched the door to his room approach, fully expecting to be put down but.. what? The Sniper simply leaned back, leveraging the Spy's body against his chest and freeing his hand up long enough to pluck the key card from his vest pocket and swipe it through the reader.

Backing up, he hitched the door handle with the heel of his shoe and pulled it open. The Spy merely stared at the open door, watching his head this time as they went inside. "You just opened zhat door with your foot."

"I got eyes, mate. I know what I did."

"Well yes, but-"

"Down you go."

_Whump._

He was back in his bed again, nice and clean.. and with more pillows, he noticed. Seems the Sniper had done more preparing while he was washing up. So he relaxed, he had to. His body had begun feeling heavy again and this time he did not resist. The Sniper clinked around on his desk, causing him to look over and notice with a horrified expression that some of his papers had been scribbled all over! "..aw. Why.. Why!"

"Why what?" the Aussie asked, picking up the thermometer and the fresh ice bag he'd prepared as he moved back to the bed.

"My papers? Was zhat necessary? I-- You'd better not have _read_ anyzhing!"

He pointed accusingly at the Sniper who simply grabbed his hand and moved it aside, "Mouth open, mate."

"Non!"

"Mouth open or those notes go in the shredder."

It was amazing how quickly that thermometer made its way under the Spy's tongue. The Sniper yawned subtly as he sat down in his chair and pulled the beeping thermometer from the Red Spy's lips. It was nearing afternoon. He knew he couldn't take much more of this babysitting business today, but he had to at least assure the Frenchman wouldn't drop dead on him. The Spy rolled his tongue around his mouth, blinking dully as the ice bag was settled over his head.

"Hundred an' two, mate."

"Mmf.."

"How's about you try and get some rest?"

"You seem to be in need of some yourself, if I may make a sugjhestion."

"Oy' if that ain't the truth.." The Sniper pinched the bridge of his nose and glanced around. "Well.. I'll be fine here. You can just punch me if you think you're dying, all right?"

"What if I just want to punch you?"

"Guess you can try explainin' that to me when I wake up and strangle you," said the Sniper, peering down to observe the smile on the Spy's face.

So that was the plan. The Spy nestled into the pillows and focused on the chill spreading over his eyes, having no trouble relaxing and letting sleep tug him away. The ice bag stayed where it was too, the broad towel made sure of that and allowed the Sniper a pair of free hands which he used to adjust the Spy's blanket. The desk chair was comfortable enough; plush leather lining, swing-out arm rests, an air-controlled height adjuster.. It didn't have a foot rest, but he was fine with that.

The Sniper tipped his hat down and folded his arms loosely across his chest as a final yawn escaped him and he let himself succumb to the sleep he'd been chasing for days..

A trickle of moisture rolling down the side of his nose woke the Red Spy. He had no idea what time it was, but as he wiped his face with a hand, he determined that the ice bag on his head had not only melted, but sprung a leak as well. Bah.. only water, he left it up there.

To his right he observed the lethal Sniper, not so dangerous when asleep though he knew better than to try anything that might startle the man. Huh.. He was still asleep and, from what he could tell, completely relaxed. His folded arms had migrated down to his lap in a subtle cross, long legs sprawled out against the floor in front of him as he breathed evenly. Sleeping upright couldn't have been comfortable, but it wasn't as though the Sniper was awake to gripe.

A trooper, that's what the Sniper had called him earlier. He couldn't say he really agreed. Most of the time he'd just been bull-headed and made things harder for the gunman to take care of him. If anybody was doing their duty here, he admitted to himself, it was the Red Sniper. ..but that still wouldn't stop him from protecting his dignity! That was important and if he wasn't going to die from this then he'd be making sure to stay on his game until it was over. That in mind, he decided to find out what time it was.

Hm.

Moving? Could he move? The Spy frowned; he shuffled around, flopped, grunted. Failed, ultimately, is what he did. He was even forced to squint an eye shut as he shook a fresh stream of water loose from the bag above. "Ugh!" he scoffed, laying there indignantly as water dribbled steadily down his frowning face.

The Sniper shifted a bit, flexing a leg and readjusting his arms. The Spy bit his lower lip, fearing that he'd woken the man unnecessarily when something else assaulted his eyes. Groaning, he shut them both and squinted angrily at the source! ..oh. It was the Sniper's watch which, as the man eased back into rest, ceased its blinding reflection and sat at a readable angle. ..3 o'clock. But it had been 2:30 when he'd last been awake! Surely he'd slept longer than thirty minutes? ..ah, there, a tiny little moon icon at the lower half of the watch face. So it was three in the morning then -- 3:15 if he felt like being precise.

Over twelve hours of rest made perfect sense for someone in the Spy's condition, but he also noticed that the Sniper was out like a light. Was that usual for a Sniper? Well, he certainly wasn't dead -- his shifting around had assured that. He pondered waking him for a few minutes until the steady drip of the ice bag began to drive him mad. Oh yes, he'd need the Sniper awake right now.

Poke. Poke poke.

He jabbed at the Aussie's arm from where he lay, unable to punch him though that would have been the more amusing route to take. Poke poke-a poke poke.. poke poke. Grunting, the Sniper stirred a bit and shifted his jaw around. He brushed at the Spy's hand as if shooing him, but he merely poked a different part of his arm, even speaking up, "Monsieur Sniper. _Wakey _wakey.."

No effect.

".._**SPY IN ZHE BASE!**_"__

"_WHERE_?" The Sniper suddenly yelled with a start, flinging himself upright in the chair and reaching for the Kukri strapped to his back.

The Spy pulled back his hand and lifted a satisfied eyebrow, "Right here."

Blinking a number of times, the Aussie gradually regained his bearings and relaxed in the chair. He began to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Aw, mate... Don't _do_ that t' me," he grumbled.

"It is hardly my fault zhat you are such a sound sleeper."

"Normally I'm not!" he insisted, removing his glasses to rub his eyes and push a hand along his stubbled chin, "Look, you need something?" He glanced at his watch with an embarrassed frown.

The Spy simply smiled a tight smile and let the Aussie notice the Chinese water torture all on his own.

Immediately he looked apologetic and grabbed the bag away as he fumbled his glasses back on, "Oh sorry about that, mate!" Holding a hand under the leak, he quickly stood to go dump the whole mess in the metal bucket he'd used to bring it in the first place. "Not sure 'ow _that_ happened."

"I assume it had somezhing to do with the bag, and zhis amazing thing called 'melting'.."

"Smartass," said the Sniper as he wiped his hands dry with the towel and then returned to the Spy's side to quite literally rub the smugness off of his face with it.

"Mghghlf!" came his muffled, angry reply -- it was probably in French.

The Sniper picked up the towel with a pleasant smile on his face, "There, all nice n' dry."

The Spy could look less amused if he tried, but he wasn't in a trying mood.

"Well, Oy'm gonna go find myself some real food and wash up, can I get you anything, princess?" At first the Spy was prepared to fling a particularly rude insult in the Sniper's direction, but then he fell into some real thought. Did he need anything? ..oh wow. That was a good point. He'd be stuck here for a while and he couldn't very well sleep the entire time. Why didn't he think of that earlier?

The Sniper was waving a hand in front of his face as if to revive him, "Anybody home?" he asked.

"Somezhing to read," he blurted out, looking from the man's hand to his face. "And.. information."

"Of what variety?" The Sniper stood straight and adjusted the strap of his quiver.

"Ask zhe team how zhings are coming along with zhe intelligence. ..non." He lifted a hand, shaking an index finger, "Ask zhe Spies. _They_ will know best.."

"Awright then.. Want me to pass around a get well card for you?"

"Yes, that would be very n-- .." He realized what the Sniper had actually said, fixing him with an exasperated look.

After scooping the bucket under one arm, the smiling Aussie leaned down to give the Spy's head a fond pat, "Back in a blink, mate."

The Spy soured predictably at the pat, not that the Sniper cared as he pulled the door open and stepped outside.


	8. Act 8: Ask Zhe Spies

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

'Ask zhe Spies', eh?

The Sniper chuckled to himself as he stepped from the shower and toweled himself off. It made sense, he had to admit. The Spies would likely be the only ones left awake save for the paranoid Soldiers and other Snipers like himself. Ah.. it felt so good to be clean again. He slipped into a change of clothes which were ironically identical to his other pair though a uniform was a uniform..

He brushed his teeth, shaved, combed his hair, and made a quick pit stop back at his own room to drop off his dirty laundry before going on a search mission. -If I were a Spy, where would I hide?- thought the Sniper as he passed the mess hall and peered inside. There were two Scouts in there playing cards. Hm, nope. Time to move on. He checked the infirmary (a brief visit once he saw no one but a drunk Demoman passed out on the floor), the main hallways, and finally, as a last thought, the briefing room where vital intelligence was kept. Why the run around? His legs. They, along with his back, felt a bit stiff from sleeping in that chair. Any exercise he could get to fix that would be welcomed with open arms.

"Hold it right there," came a voice from behind him. He really was getting tired of being snuck up on..

The Sniper was subtly startled, but he paused and asked, "Okay, what am I holding, mate?"

The telltale smoke of a cloaked Spy passed his right side, a fellow teammate slipping into view with his knife drawn. It wasn't the Spy he'd been nursing, he could tell by the man's height and the difference in eye color.

"Oh no. Do Oy need a hall pass?"

The Spy looked unaffected by the Aussie's humor, quickly glancing up and down at him as if to determine something. He then relaxed and fancily closed his butterfly knife, "I had to be sure zhat you were not an enemy Spy. Forgive me."

"No worries, mate."

The Spy scoffed and pocketed the knife, "What are you doing here so late at night?"

The Sniper smiled, "Looking for you, actually. Or.. any of you red-suited blokes, really."

"For what purpose?"

"Oy don't suppose you've noticed one of your own went missing?"

".."

"He's down with the flu, sent me in his stead."

"Sent you?"

"Me."

"A Sniper?"

"A Sniper."

The Red Spy across from him furrowed his brow and looked suspicious! The Aussie didn't think much of it. All of the Spies were paranoid and untrusting to the point where it became ridiculous at times. But seeing as they stood so near to the Red team's intelligence, he decided it made a bit of sense tonight.

To please the Spy, the Sniper glanced down at his vest and reached in for the other Spy's room card. He presented it like an ID, watching as the man accepted it and looked it over. He even held it to the light for verification before handing it back with a grudging grunt of approval, "Well.. I suppose zhings are in order. Walk with me."

Tucking the key away, the Sniper was happy to follow. Well this was simple enough, he'd almost expected to be frisked before the Spy would even consider turning his back on him.

Being that that wasn't the case, he was feeling rather chipper as the Spy opened the briefing room door (with a card key of his own) and held it open for the Sniper to follow. The Aussie could see a few of the masked men standing and sitting around the room -- all of them were smoking. Well, all except the one who welcomed him inside, but he soon got right to it as he shut the door and locked it. The Sniper wrinkled his nose a bit but pushed the irritation aside with a gentle clearing of his throat. The others had already noticed him and quit talking, their expressions voicing their confusion and distaste as if to say 'what the hell is _he_ doing here?'

The Sniper politely removed his hat and went to sit impolitely on the edge of a steel-reinforced table covered in confidential photographs which he didn't even look at. All of the Spies bristled sharply, each of them ready to pounce and start yelling about how top secret everything was and that the Aussie had better forget everything he learned in the room and yadda.. yadda.. yadda. What they didn't expect, however, was for the Sniper to start talking before they got the chance.

"G'day, mates." They collectively shut their mouths and waited, their frowning faces demanding explanation.

"One of your colleagues sent me to get this whole intelligence mess straight. You might remember him; he's the bloke that retrieved that briefcase," pointing across the room, he was able to draw all of their attention to the opened case that was currently laid on a table between two of the Spies. When they looked back to him, he continued, "To be quite honest, I don't much care what you blokes are up to. Only reason Oy'm here is because he asked nicely. Now. One of you, give me a report."

They stared judgingly at him.

"Oh for the love of.. I'm on your team, what am I gonna do with intelligence? Steal it twice?" There were a few slumped shoulders and exchanged glances before one of the Spies pulled out his cigarette and released a smoke trail as he approached the table upon which the Sniper had planted his ass.

He paused near the Aussie who only folded his arms and waited as the Spy made a few final judgments and decided it was safe to begin, "All right.. Look here, _Sniper_, perhaps you'll learn somezhing." His arrogance was almost physically painful to listen to, but the Aussie handled it just fine. Standing, he turned and joined the Spy's side to watch and listen.

The man pointed with his cigarette to a few photographs and began to explain the Blu situation. Gradually, other Spies approached, giving their two cents and sharing moments of witty banter and European laughter among themselves that made the Sniper feel a bit like an outsider. It didn't matter, however, seeing as he was getting what he wanted.

He thumbed through a report handed to him while trying to listen at the same time. The poor Sniper was just a bit overwhelmed with the level of secrecy and painstaking detail that he was expected to convey to their comrade, but he'd try his best to do as the Red Spy had asked if for no other reason than to prevent another bitchfest. _Bullet upgrades, Barrel upgrades, New Medi-gun syringe compound.._ "What's this about the Blu Medics?"

"Oh, just take zhat with you."

"No doubt _you_ would not be able to understand. Haw haw.."

"Snipers are a lot smarter than you'd think, mate.."

"Heheh.. Perhaps, perhaps." Three of the masked mongrels shared a chuckle while a fourth, the one who had let him in, went to fetch a fresh, unmarked briefcase.

The Sniper watched him load it with photocopies and paperwork before taking the report from him and snapping the whole thing shut and locked. One of the other Spies disappeared and came back with a pair of handcuffs. The two of them approached the Sniper who, uh.. wasn't so sure what was going on.

-

Really? _REALLY?_

He trudged down the hallway with a briefcase handcuffed to his wrist, staring at it with a look of disbelief. Did they really think he was stupid enough to lose it? Good gravy, he was only going to be traveling across the base! A sigh left him as he turned his eyes up the hallway. A glance at his watch told him it was 4:45. Huh. Plenty of time to do his running around before anyone else woke up. Still, he'd have to get himself something to eat. He'd gotten lunch for himself and the Spy before the man's shower but that wouldn't really be enough to tide either of them over this long.

So his next stop, unfortunately, was the mess hall.

One Scout nudged another with his elbow, pointing at the Sniper as he descended the short steps leading into the room. "Hey, check out the crocodile hunter."

"What? ..oh man, that's beautiful; look, he thinks he's a Spy."

They stared with obvious amusement as the Aussie walked by them, grinning wildly to one another one he disappeared into the kitchen area.

Once there, the Australian realized something rather obvious. He'd be cooking with a briefcase stuck to him. Looking at it, his shoulder slumped and a sigh left him again. "Well," he murmured with irritated resolve, "I've 'ad worse." He got to work, making a quick sandwich for himself and eating it as he prepared the Spy's meal. Hamburgers, he decided. If the Spy was a vegetarian he could just go hungry!

As he flipped the patties on the stove (with the briefcase laid up on the counter right next to his tethered arm), he became aware of a greeting whistle in the doorway. The Sniper looked over to see a very smug-looking pair of Scouts leaning on the wall. "Yo, wassup?" said one. He recognized him from the other day. That was the little punk who'd been giving him a hard time.

He had to make a decision right here. Would he be spiteful or would he kill 'em with kindness? "Morning boys," he said, deciding upon being cheerful, "You want some?" Gesturing into the pan with his spatula, he reveled in the looks of disappointment on the Scouts' faces. Oh, but he knew he wasn't off the hook yet.

The other one unfolded his arms and walked forward with his bat up on one shoulder, "Dunno, man. Do _you_?" He poked at the side of the Sniper's head with the aluminum bat, knocking his hat askew.

The Sniper only exhaled through his nose and reached up to fix it with his free hand.

The Scout sniffed the air, commenting, "You been smokin', man? Smells like a Spy in here!"

The other Scout grinned, "Yea, you thinking about switching classes or something?"

"Yea, what's with the briefcase?" The more invasive Scout went right up to go stare at it.

The Sniper showed a good bit of tolerance and watched him as he flipped the patties again, "Sorry mate, that's classified information."

Laughter could be heard from the door as the Scout there totally lost it. "Aw man! Are you serious!! Dude, what a fuckin' _joke_."

The other Scout straightened his posture and jabbed the Sniper rudely in the side with his bat, "Look at him, dude, what a fuckin' _**pansy**_. No wonder he wants to be a Spy."

"Yea, I guess hidin' and shooting at weak people wasn't pussy enough for you, huh?" The other Scout finally advanced, smirking as he tossed a ball up and down in his hand.

They were both so focused on his face, waiting to see him break. They couldn't wait to see a frown, a sigh, a sign of weakness! ..but they really should have been watching his hands.

Deftly, he switched the spatula from one to the other and, when the other Scout began to jab a little bit too hard, his fingers curled around the handle of the briefcase and sent it roaring into the side of the city boy's head. Much like the baseballs he so often threw, the kid went flying..

His bat clanked to the floor and rolled away as he slammed into the tile and clutched his head with a shriek of pain, **"AaaaAAaGH!" **

The other Scout jolted backward with shock that soon turned to anger, his throwing arm tensing and preparing to throw the ball in his hand full force at the Sniper in front of him. They had a brief standoff; the Sniper holding the case near to his chest and staring the boy down as the hamburger meat sizzled in the pan. The Scout waited for the Sniper to move. The Sniper waited for the Scout.

"You fuckin'.. You. God _damn_, dude."

"Owww.." the Scout whined from the floor. He clutched at his head, trails of red covering his fingers in a hue very complimentary to his uniform.

"You'd best take him to a Medic, _mate_," said the Sniper coldly.

He slammed the case down on the counter, his shaded eyes never leaving the young team member. The staring, combined with the sounds of suffering from the other Scout, finally broke the boy's concentration. Gradually his throwing arm lowered, a pissed off sneer locked on his face as he edged around the Aussie and helped his buddy up. "C'mon man. He's fuckin'.. He's fuckin' crazy, c'mon let's go. You'll be sorry you fuckin' asshole! I'm tellin' everybody about this, you hear me!"

The Sniper stood there in silence, reaching forward to shut off the stove top and shuffle the hamburger patties onto a couple of buns.


	9. Act 9: Babysitting II

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

The Red Spy was bored.

The evidence of this could have come from a few sources: his frown, his irritable twitch, or the fact that he was currently reading a baby book. Ok, it wasn't a baby book, it was an five-year-old's storybook (the one the Medic had left behind). Not much of an improvement, but it was at least accurate. _The puppy went to look for his mommy. He walked up to a bird singing in a tree. 'Are you my mommy?' the puppy asked. _

"Non, you idiot!" the Spy spat at the delightfully-illustrated pages, "Does zhat look like a dog to you? Are you mad?! What drivel.."

He heard shuffling outside the door, seeing the handle tremble as he glanced over. Wide-eyed, he played hot potato with the book and ended up simply dropping it on the floor. Ungh. At least he wouldn't be caught holding it.. He shuffled down further under the blanket and tried his best to look bedridden as the door swung open and the Red Sniper came inside.

"And Oy'm back," came his greeting, the door nudged shut with a shoulder.

"Really? I blinked several times while you were gone."

The Sniper needed a moment to process that before realizing it'd been what he had said just before leaving. "Huh. You're well enough to be a li'le pain, are you?" The Aussie set down the tray he was carrying on the Spy's desk and walked toward the bed to drop the briefcase into the man's lap. His forearm hovered over it, unable to let go. "Your friends said you'd know how to get this open."

The Spy blinked confusedly and then his eyes lit up when he realized what the briefcase meant. Intel! It took him a moment, but he was able to pull up his hand and work on the combination lock keeping the case closed. He was interrupted by the clearing of the Aussie's throat, glancing up to see the Sniper looking expectantly at him and arching a brow. He knew exactly what it was for and kept working, "Zhe key to zhose cuffs eez inside."

".._in__**side**_?? What a stupid idea."

"It is normally kept on one's person.. I assume zhey.. simply did not trust you."

The Sniper frowned and sighed as he resigned himself to standing there and letting the Spy work at his own pace. Soon the case clicked open and he wasted no time in setting the Aussie free. That cuff had been an unfriendly level of tight and he found himself rubbing his wrist as he stepped back toward the desk, "Thanks, mate."

"Not at all," the Spy practically purred. He scootched up into a half-seated position and began to leaf through reports and photography like a child with a new toy. The Red Spy was barely paying attention to the Sniper despite his proximity to the sensitive material strewn over his desk.

The Aussie, on the other hand, was very focused on what he was doing. He'd prepared another ice bag though he left it in the bucket as he brought the thermometer back to the distracted Spy. "Ahem."

"What? ..oh. _Zhat _again.." he said flatly.

"It's not gonna bite you, you know."

"I do not like zhe way it feels."

"I promise a fever feels much worse, now say ah."

The Spy was still reluctant, though he did cooperate. This time he was able to drum his fingertips on the briefcase while he waited, eyes trying to focus on the thermometer before they flicked upward to watch the Sniper's grim expression. Beep!

The Sniper took it away and pushed his hat up to scratch his forehead as he read the numbers, "Huh. 98.9. That's getting somewhere, right?"

"Oui.. Perhaps soon zhis whole mess will be over."

"Eager to get rid of me?" asked the Aussie as he set the thermometer down and went to grab the man's meal for him.

There was a bit of silence there. The Red Spy found himself unable to answer that even as the Sniper returned with the usual tray. "Well," he prompted himself, "I suppose it depends on your cooking."

The Sniper only smiled, charmed by the Spy's thinly-veiled irritation and his odd brand of hesitant humor. He figured they'd become fast friends over the past few weeks, a feeling supported by the lack of certain insults, certain answers.. It wasn't a candy-coated relationship, but he liked things the way he liked his coffee -- light on the sugar. So, as the Spy choked down his hamburgers and tea (He refused to drink anything else), he began to think about the whole situation.

They didn't speak very much while the man ate and read his intelligence papers, though the Sniper brought up a few points of practical interest. If the Spy was feeling better, would he like him to come around less frequently? What duties would he still need help with? And, lastly, what items would the Spy need brought to him until he could obtain them himself? They ended up with a working system of tasks in the end and after another trip to the washroom, they again decided upon the same sleeping arrangements as last time.

But this time the Sniper woke before the Spy.

Recharged from his lengthy rest the day before, he was almost vibrating with energy. He stole a glance to the sleeping man of mystery, smiling at the papers in his relaxed hand. Though he'd urged the man to rest, the Spy had insisted on reading for just a little while longer! So he gave in, letting him do just that though it was now obvious he hadn't the stamina for it.

Ah, but he had work to do.

They agreed that if he was feeling better, the Sniper should return to his post -- at least for a little while. He wouldn't need constant supervision and was willing to admit that the gunman's duties to the Red team were needed on the field more than on a single man. His palm carefully made its way to the Spy's forehead, resting there gently as not to wake him. Hm.. warm, but certainly no fever.

He shifted his gaze to the open briefcase, choosing a particularly important-looking document and flipping it over to its clean side. Over at the desk he jotted down a brief note:

_Morning, Sunshine,_

_On-duty. See you in a few hours. Key card is in your pocket._

_Amuse yourself,_

_Sniper_

The resulting, "MON _**DIEU! **_MY PAPERS!" could be heard faintly from the room about three hours later.


	10. Act 10: Let's Have A Go At It

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

"G'day, mate!" The Red Sniper paused on his way to the hangar door, looking back to see a second Sniper jogging up to him. He decided to wait for him, turning back in his direction with a small smile and an attentive look on his face.

Though the man's uniform was similar, there were a few differences. This man was a bit more muscular, his hair a bit longer and dirty blonde, and he had a toothpick sticking out of his mouth. "'aven't seen you in the towers, lately."

"Heh.. Haven't been gone so long 'ave I?" They both approached the hangar together.

"Word 'round base is that _you'_ve adopted a Spy, izzat it?"

The Sniper groaned good-naturedly and cracked his knuckles with a grin, "Aw here we go.."

"So it's true then! Shocking business right there," the blonde said with a marveling tone of voice, "'ow did it happen, mate, you've gotta tell me."

"Same way you meet anybody else, I suppose.."

"There's rumors too, yeh'know?"

"Rumors?" he looked over, "How are there already rumors? Good gravy, it's only been a day.."

"Oh, Scouts I imagine.. You know how they are."

Indeed, he did.

The Red Sniper wrinkled his nose, quieting down as the two of them approached the door. The Engineer was busy clanging on the Sentry gun with his wrench. "Howdy, mate. Problems?"

The Engie looked up and wiped a bit of sweat from his brow, "Danged Spy slid a sapper in here when I opened up to let some of you boys back in. Had somebody peruse the area, but they didn't find nothin'. You boys had better keep a keen set of eyes."

"Can do, mate," said the blonde Sniper. He gave the Engie a hand up, letting the man go about unlocking and opening the door for them. As he did, the Red Sniper pulled his bow off of his back and loaded an arrow into it. He stared at the darkening scenery outside. A few search lights, a dull breeze, no rain however. The two Snipers decided to walk together though the blonde seemed more relaxed than his dark-haired companion. He drew his Kukri and glanced around while nudging the other Sniper's firing arm, "So, d'you fancy 'im?"

The Red Sniper stopped right where he was and lowered his bow as he looked with exasperation at the other man. "Do I fancy _who_?"

"That Spoy. Word is you attacked a Scout that said somethin' about it, and I wanted to know if it was true is all."

A gravelly grunt of annoyance left his throat. "Absolutely not," he said, pulling his bow taught once more and stepping ahead of the blonde. "Bloody pikers runnin' about flappin' their gums.. Do I look like a poofer to you?"

"Was only a question, mate, no need to get all a'mess about it."

"He took ill and almost died. Decided to help a teammate instead of leavin' 'im behind. There's your answer."

The blonde Sniper quieted down a bit at that, turning it over in his head. Well.. That was a valid reason. It still felt strange though. A Sniper aiding a Spy.. Hell, anyone aiding anyone and not being a Medic was news to him -- especially outside of battle. "Well.. you're a good man then," was all he could muster before parting ways to head across the field and toward his own post.

With him gone, the Red Sniper could focus on other areas of the battlefield. The tower was nearby but.. no. Tonight? Tonight he would prowl a bit..

He took to strafing again, his blatant red uniform liable to make him a walking target even as he stuck to the shadows. Huh.. Quiet night. With any luck, he could get to a fine vantage point in the rocks nearer to the Blu base.. Slowly, steady.. . His shoes pressed softly into the grass and dry dust beneath them, long strides taken with his limber legs as he hunched forward and held his bow sideways.. Pause. He heard a snap and quickly dropped to a full-on crouch. His glasses slid down his nose and he peered around cautiously...

After no sounds followed for almost three minutes, he slowly continued his creeping approach and shuffled past the very ruined crate that had helped to save the Red Spy those days ago. One foot in front of the other, keep your head down; he repeated the cautions to himself in a ritual fashion and pressed on. Past a silo, into an alley, a pause as he stared at a catwalk above him for any signs of enemy sentries.

He was getting close now.. The Blu Base loomed in the distance but he could easily see it from here. He also knew that if Blu's Snipers could hold a candle to Red's, he'd be dead in a matter of moments if he stepped into the open. Wiping some sweat from his brow onto his sleeve, the Sniper moved into a crouch again and took stock of his options. From behind him, a series of smooth clicks were heard. It was all the warning he required to jolt and push himself forward but not before a cold blade slashed into his shoulder, "_**GRAGH**_!"

His arrow released prematurely and entirely off aim, whizzing off toward the Blu base's roof and knocking the baseball right out of an enemy Scout's hand.

Back on the field, the Sniper had already dropped his bow and reached for his Kukri while stumbling forward to evade his attacker. He could hear a growl of distaste advancing upon him as he rolled onto his back and caught sight of the lanky Blu Spy pulling his pistol and preparing to fire. The Sniper panicked and rolled to the side just as the barrel leveled and ejected a bullet into the dirt. He wasn't going to take this laying down!

As the Spy got too close, he gripped the grass with his free hand and leveraged himself enough to kick the heel of his shoe into the man's nearest kneecap. "**Agh!**___Merde_!" the Spy cried, his leg twisting and failing him while the Aussie scrambled to his feet. Both men attempted to stand and gain the higher ground though it seemed the Sniper would get there first.

_**Fffshew!**_

Shit.

An enemy Sniper's arrow landed inches from the Red's head, causing him to back away from his opponent and give him the time he needed to roll to his feet. So he ran, darting around the silo with the Spy hot on his heels. He was invisible, he could tell from the scent of whirring machine smoke in the air. The plume smoke of re-entry appeared in front of him.

Damnit, damnit! The Spy had run around the other way and as the Sniper tried to skid to a halt, the Spy lashed his butterfly knife across his face.

It might have stung, but the adrenaline rushing through him disallowed any sensation of pain. He gripped his Kukri tightly and brought it swiftly across the Spy's chest and elbowed him forcefully backward. The man pinwheeled and grunted in pain, laying his knife arm across his torso though he managed to lift his pistol and squeeze off a shot as he fell. It struck a lucky target -- the Sniper's left ankle. "_**G'AH'W!"**_ He stumbled then, grimacing and advancing on the Spy with wide eyes as blood dripped down his cheeks. **"C'mere you li'le wanka!" **he growled, slashing at the felled Frenchman with his Kukri. The Blu looked terrified, mouth wide open as the Aussie's sharp blade cut deeply into his throat and shoulder.

Blood gushed everywhere, staining the man's long knife and seeping into the ground as he grunted and ripped it free from the Spy's flesh. He took notice of a gold object in what should have been the man's knife hand. A gold watch? It shone dimly, the corpse in front of him sputtering from view and disappearing entirely as he stared at it. It wasn't invisible, it simply wasn't there anymore!

A feeling of dread crawled up his throat as he quickly stood straight and wielded the blade near his chest, turning around and around as he heard the Blu base starting to wake up..

"C'mon guys, they're attackin'!" he heard a Scout shouting.

"_**MM-MMPH!"**_ screamed a Pyro. The Sniper was actually beginning to look a bit scared and decided to retreat.

He waved an arm wildly to capture the attention of any of the attentive Snipers, screaming as he ran, "INCOMING! _**INCOMING**_! _BLOODY 'ELL_, **INCOMING!!"**

He soon realized the wound in his leg, his run becoming a hopping limp as he struggled to find a position of cover and hold it. The warehouse doors of the Red Base flew open, a short staff of Soldiers and fiery Demomen prepared for duty while a Scout or two made themselves apparent with a straggling Pyro. The Sniper wasn't paying any attention, but one of the Scouts (with a bandaged head) glowered thick death at the Aussie. He immediately blamed him for the late night interruption, but that? That could be handled later..

As the Blu team's nightshift flooded around the silo, all hell broke loose.

The Sniper found an uncomfortable sniping position behind an open-backed pile of rubble, dropping his Kukri and taking potshots at anyone who got too close to the base. There was fire, gunning, running, screaming.. How could this happen? The other men had ventured toward the Blu base in the past few days -- the Spies had told him so -- so why him? Why tonight?? He cursed his distractions when an unexpected punch sent him flying to the ground.

He lay there blinking in disorientation as a shadowy form crouched next to him and plucked up his Kukri, "Haw haw.. _Now_ it eez time to die, Monsieur Sniper."

Son of a bitch. That nagging rookie Spy!

He fumbled around for a method of escape, observing the hesitation that he'd called the Spy on last time. But.. he'd killed him hadn't he??

The Blu idiot wanted revenge, wanted to see the look of realization in the Sniper's eyes as he thrust his own knife through his heart. And just as he was about to get his wish, a baseball came flying in front left field (his own side) and clocked him on the temple.

The Kukri hit the ground right away though the Spy? He just teetered there for a little while the Sniper sat up grimly and grabbed the front of his suit. He then grabbed one of the man's arms and, in two steps, stood and flung him into the trench just past his crumbling sniping post as hard as his wounded body would allow. He then dropped back into work, fighting tooth and nail until the Blus were forced to pull back. It became apparent rather quickly that the Reds were not scaling an attack and so the Blus retreated. Already some of the Reds were toting upgraded weapons which only fueled the Blu motivation to get back to base.

The Sniper's breath came rough as the sounds of fighting died off, his jaw set with pain as he pulled himself to his feet and limped back toward one of the hangar doors. His glasses were gone, he realized. They must have been broken when that dirty Spy had come at his face with that knife. And just as he cleared the hangar door, he met another challenge.. The Scout.

He stood there, his bloodied bat tapping at the side of his ankle with his brow set low..

The Sniper paused to look at him, confusion apparent on his face as the Scout hefted his bat upward and took a swing at him. His first instinct was to throw up his arm and grab the damned thing, but the Spy had slashed his shoulder to the point where it would not rotate properly. This caused a slowing of the impact, but he was not fast enough to stop the Scout when he went at it again and hit him in the head so hard that he slammed against the wall and slumped down dazed.

"You _**like**_ that, chucklehead??" demanded the Scout, standing over him with spite in his voice.

"Woah, woah, woah! What in tarnation is going on over here, boys??" It was an Engineer, his brows frowning over the edge of his goggles. "You're both Red, nang dabbit, _open_ your eyes!"

The Scout grudgingly let up, slinging his bat up onto his shoulder and walking off, "My work here's done, hard hat," he grumbled angrily.

The Sniper sat there. He knew why that had just happened -- it took a moment to occur is all. That Scout had a bad case of injured pride from the mess hall incident. This little number with the Blus was just the cherry on top. But now he was down a bow, down a pair of glasses and.. well.. down for the count. As he tilted his head back against the wall, he looked up at the Engineer and gruffly asked for some help getting to the Medic's office. ..again.


	11. Act 11: Intellijhence

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

"Vhell? Vhat do you say?"

"Thaaank you, Herr Doctor.." mumbled a less-than-enthused Scout as he pulled the bandaging off of his head.

"Ach ja! I am pretty vuhnderful, I know.." said the Medic dreamily, his gloved hand brushing off the front of his coat as the Scout hopped off of his medical cot and pitched his gauze in the trash.

-Stuck up German bastid- he thought as he shuffled out the door.

The Medic, still high off of his recently-stroked ego, turned around to view his flock.

Huh! Not as many wounded as he would have liked, but it was a good number. Cheerfully, he toted his Medigun and approached the Heavy who had called his services for the Spy just the other day. "Aw," he cooed at the big man, "Vhat is zhe matter, Heavy?"

"Is _broken_!" the Russian exclaimed as he gestured to his left arm. "Little Blu Scout hit very hard. Shatters bones, but.." Smiling broadly, he leaned down to the Medic's level, "I kill him _dead_."

"Ho ho! Did you? Very good, Heavy, very good. Let me see your arm, bitte."

It was strange, the relationship those two shared. Were they friends or owner and pet? Hard to say, really. The Medic often coddled the Heavy, following him into battle and tending to his every medical need outside of it. Some of the men had even witnessed him healing a paper cut for the hulking man though the Medic's otherwise fierce personality kept them from making a joke of it..

"Got another one for ya, Doc."

The Medic glanced over his shoulder in time to see an Engineer shuffling inside with a Sniper holding onto his shoulder. Ah.. how delightful! Fresh meat.. "Ach ja, very good. Bring him over der." One-handedly, the doctor gestured to the empty bed the Scout had been occupying only minutes prior and resumed his treatment of the burly man beside him.

Soon the Heavy was grinning, his powerful muscles flexing as he pumped his arm, laughed, and shouted, "I LOVE THIS DOCTOR!"

"Boy howdy, you sure look a mess," the Engineer commented as he helped the Sniper sit down, "You boys ever manage to catch that Spy?"

The Sniper blinked a bit, wiping blood away from his eyes, "He's good as dead, yeh. Thanks again for the help, mate."

"Shucks. Don't mention it. After all the helpin' you've been givin' around base it's only fair."

The Sniper grimaced though it wasn't out of pain. Just how many people knew what he was doing anyway? Were they spying on him? ..it made more sense as he thought about it. If those Spies could stop him in the hallways and go undetected, couldn't they observe him anywhere? It placed an uneasy feeling in his already turbulent stomach. In any case, he nodded his thanks to the Engineer and let him go back to work on his machinery.

After utterly assuring that the Heavy was fine and well, the Medic stepped up to his newest patient with a look of unimpressed professionalism.

"Und vhat seems to be de problem _zhis_ time, Herr Sniper?"

The Sniper didn't even flinch at his biting tone. "My face, my temple, my leg, and my shoulder," he gestured to each, adding, "Knife wounds. Well.. 'cept the ankle. There's a bullet inside." Leaving out the part about the baseball bat was more of a personal preference than a professional one.

He did not expect the Medic to suddenly grab his chin and turn his head though it was something he tolerated with a grimace. "Ooh! Dat is certainly a nasty facial vhound. It is certain to leave a scar.."

"Or you could heal it."

"Oh nonsense, zhat is a vhaste of my expertise, zhis tiny paper cut hier.. I vhill heal your arm; hold it out, bitte." With his chin released, the Sniper shifted it and grudgingly agreed to leave the gash to natural healing.

Forty minutes later, he was released.

He limped up the hallway with his gun cradled in both arms like a child. Of all the weapons he could lose, he could not imagine a world without this one and even _it_ was due for an upgrade. On his way he passed various other members of the team. Conversation was ablaze throughout the base as they all shared stories of the recent fight and speculated on the cause of it.

"I heard it was because one of the enemy Scoot's balls finally dropped!" said an enthusiastic Demoman to the Pyro beside him outside the mess hall. They shared muffled and tipsy laughter, taking no note of the Sniper as he walked by.

That was fine, he decided; he'd had his share of attention for the day.

The gauze across his nose and forehead itched. He knew the wound beneath it was clean and sanitized, but it still felt dirtied with Blu Spy cooties. He also felt a bit ridiculous, seeing as how the Medic had styled his bandages much like a highwayman's mask. It had been necessary, he said, to cover all parts of the wound which was rather unevenly spread. Just his luck.. But enough of that. He still had work to do and shifted his gun to one hand as he pushed into the mess hall to get himself and the Spy something to eat.

It was amazing..

With every paper he read, the Spy became more and more intrigued with what had been discovered about the Blu team. Their Medics toted new offensive weapons. Their Pyros? Stronger flare guns. Their Soldiers? It could have been rumor, but talk of heat-seeking rockets fluttered across some of the reports. These advances could spell utter doom for Red unless prevented which sent a tingle of anticipation and lament down his spine. He couldn't do anything from his bed and it saddened him to an ego-shattering degree.

His pick-me-up came in the form of a knock at the door followed with, "Spoy? Open up, mate, it's me."

He was sitting up at this point, his aches and pains seeming to come and go in a seemingly random pattern. They were always there, of course, but he had developed coping methods such as those that allowed him to crawl out of bed and unlock the door.

Backing off for the Aussie to enter, he noticed a few things. One was that he lacked his glasses, another that bandages had taken their place, and thirdly that he was carrying a tray with an agreeable chicken salad and tea present. Too stunned by the combination to say anything, he simply held the door and shut it behind the Sniper as he went to go set everything down.

"What ah.. what happened out zhere? ..I heard sounds," the Spy ventured calmly. Seeing people injured was never a new thing around the Red base, especially not to him. Why did it pester him so much tonight?

The Aussie simply rolled his newly-healed shoulder and pulled his rifle off his back to lean it against the desk, "'ave a seat, Oy can explain everything for you."

The Spy watched him gesture to the bed and he carefully made his way back to it. Soon after he reclined on top of the blanket, the Sniper brought his salad plate to him and set the tea down on the night stand before sitting and drawing from a mug of coffee he'd brought for himself.

"There was a bit of a scuffle tonight. Stalemate. Didn't lose anyone special."

The Spy gratefully accepted the tea and admired the scent of it beneath his nose before taking a sip and listening. Huh. What a terse explanation. He began to get the feeling that something was wrong, observing the Sniper's bandages with curiosity.

"Did you see a Medic?"

"Oy saw a Medic, yea."

"..ah."

Awkward silence swooped between them.

"Zhey.. got inside your tower zhen?" it was all he could conclude from such an injury.

The Sniper shook his head and reluctantly went into more depth, "Nah'w, I went out on foot. Got jumped by a fucking Spook. ..no offense."

"Zhat's quite all right, we are rather undesirable at times," the Red Spy admitted into his tea. The Sniper merely grunted and rewarded himself with another sip of coffee as he reclined in the plush office chair.

This time the silence was more tolerable; each man relaxed a bit and the Spy got started on his salad.

"Oh, I was meaning to ask you something -- if Oy'm not just a stupid Sniper to you, that is."

The Spy blinked a few times and shrugged, "Depending. What eez it?"

"What do you know about gold watches? Do they mean anything?"

The Spy rubbed his chin thoughtfully, an eyebrow arched with interest, "Ahh.. oui. Zhe Deadringer."

"Deadringer?"

"Yes, you heard me correctly," he munched on a tasty piece of chicken, motioning for the Sniper to wait a moment. He sighed and obliged, having nowhere else to be for the time being.

"Yes, yes, zhe Deadringer is a very interesting piece of technology. Utter secret. Zhe Engineers haven't even been allowed to view zhe blueprints.." the Spy sounded particularly happy to be talking business.

"Roight.. What does it do?"

"Heheh.. Tell me more first. Where did you encounter such a device?"

"In the hand of the man that stabbed me in the face."

The Spy's smirk fell, "..oh."

The Spy lifted a hand, using his knuckle to wipe his mouth as he continued, "Mm.. Well, zhat is rather unfortunate. A Deadringer is used to leave a copy of zhe body behind as a distraction."

"Meaning..?"

"You really are a stupid Sniper, aren't you?"

"Break it down for me, oh _mighty_ Spoy," said the Sniper grudgingly.

The masked man chuckled and nodded subtly, "Very well. It mimics zhe last pose of zhe wearer, sometimes adding blood and gory pieces while zhe Spy escapes. Eet is a hologram, for lack of a better comparison." He popped some lettuce into his mouth and crunched on it as the Sniper took to looking thoughtful. "Though.. Usually zhey go unused unless a Spy feels particularly threatened. What did you do to zhis man, hm?"

"Not as much as I'd have liked to."

"Non?"

"Yeh.. A war broke out or Oy'd have put him in as small of pieces as your salad there," said the Aussie darkly as he pointed at the Red's plate.

"..oh now zhat is just disguzting. How am I supposed to finish zhis?" the Spy said with a mock tone of offense, "Please, tell me. What more do you know of zhis Blu Spy? Erm.. he is Blu, isn't he?"

The Sniper took to relaxing again. His concentration on the topic of the Deadringer had tensed him, but he quickly undid the damage as he removed his hat and placed it on the unoccupied space left on the nightstand. "'e's a god damn rookie. 'Round thirty years of age, I wager. Wonder why 'e 'asn't seen the battlefield before now.."

"Very interesting.." the Red Spy mused as he found it in him to eat his salad without the imagery of eating a fellow Spy.

"And.. you did not kill zhis rookie? Were you unable?"

The Sniper sputtered a bit, "B'why.. no, not at all, could have done 'im in at a couple points, I imagine.." He stole a glance at the Spy who was watching him with a curiously-lifted brow. "..He's no threat to anyone roight now, that's all that matters. Couldn't kill me if he tried."

"He certainly tried tonight," the Spy observed, pointing at the Sniper's bandaged nose with his pinky before pulling the delicate teacup to his lips and smirking against it.

"Really, don't badger me; Oy'm not in the mood.."


	12. Act 12: Silly Idea

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

As it happened, the Sniper wasn't 'in the mood' for a good half hour or so.

He even spun the chair around, putting its tall back to the Spy as he rubbed carefully at the rims of his eyes and used the rest of the time to unwind a bit. Things were just dandy, weren't they? A new itching distraction (on his face of all places!), rumors being flung around the base, and team mates spending more time _spying_ on his antics than actually doing their jobs. He'd have felt flattered if it didn't result in such negative things happening, really.

The Spy, picking up on the man's mood, decided to continue reading and interpreting the intel -- there was a surprising amount for only a few days' worth of missed work. Tea and intel, what could be better? Hm.. maybe a crepe to go with it, but he'd settle for now.

Cup and plate set aside, he did not expect to be interrupted by the Aussie's voice.

"So, that Deadringer.. do you have one?"

The Spy suspiciously narrowed his eyes and rested his hands in his lap as he looked toward the back of the Sniper's chair. He wouldn't answer a question like that without eye contact and simply waited until the man turned halfway back around to peer at him questioningly.

"Well?"

"Why is it of importance to you?"

The Sniper rolled his shoulder again, a clear signal that it was bothering him though the Spy said nothing of the fact, "The more I know, the better."

"Perhaps for you. Why should I tell you?"

"Ok, so I'll just assume you've got one, you prissy li'le wanker.."

"I never said that," the Spy asserted.

"Oh, okay, so you don't have one."

"Non, I do, eet is merely--" he was furious the moment the Aussie smiled, inwardly cursing himself as his eyes narrowed even further, "You've simply caught me off guard. It will _not_ happen again."

The Sniper folded his arms, smile remaining, "You really think I'd try to take advantage of you now but let you alone while you were delirious?" The laughter was in his words, not his voice. "Look, mate, I ask a question I expect a direct answer. Why would I be lookin' to do you any harm after going out of my way to take care of you?"

"For zhe exact purpose of divesting me of my secrets!" The Spy was frowning now, "I see your leetle scheme.."

"Heheh.."

"It is not funny! I am well enough to finish zhe job zhat Blu Spy started. Do _not_ try my patience!"

"Spoy?"

"_WHAT_!"

"You're wrinkling your papers there."

Glancing down, the Red Spy quickly realized this was true, a dented report now wound up in his hands and subsequently dropped with a grimace of shame! Oh, the poor papers!

The Sniper spoke again, his chair creaking as he unfolded his arms and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, "I know you're paranoid, mate," he said softly, "I know you think everybody's out to get you and hell.. could be true in this place." The Spy looked toward him in a nonplussed fashion. The Aussie plucked at the sleeve of his red shirt, tugging it lightly, "But it's more than a color for me, mate. It's loyalties -- and trust, somewhat."

The Spy's firm jaw shifted and relaxed after a few moments, smooth composure coming to him as it usually did.

He rolled his shoulders, adjusted his tie, and pridefully smoothed out the report as he thought the man's words over. His eyes remained on it for a few seconds more until the Aussie again caught his gaze. He looked so.. patient. Sitting there with his body relaxed and his naked eyes half-masted with honesty. Trust flickered briefly in the Spy's chest, but he was quick to swat it down -- at least outwardly.

"Well then," he ventured, "Why are you asking me such questions, Monsieur Sniper? Surely you know it would be extremely unwise to divulge information to a class which has no conceivable use for it but sabotage or treason."

"Espionage."

"I beg your pardon," the Spy said flatly.

"I want to capture that Blu Spoy before he has a chance to get at me again."

"Capture.." the Red Spy repeated, looking both amused and stupefied at once, "You want to capture a Spy."

"Yes."

"You don't want to shoot him in zhe head, you want to capture him yourself."

"Yes."

"..AHAHAHAHAHAH," the Spy broke into laughter, snorting a good bit and pressing a palm to his forehead with mirth though he sobered some when he noticed that the Sniper's stance was unmoving, "..you.. heheh.. you. Hm. You are being serious, aren't you."

"Utterly."

"Oh please.. Why? What in zhe world for?" the Spy tossed up his hands with an amused grin.

"I imagine I'll ask around before I do anything hasty. I want to keep the little bugger a while -- see what he knows. Maybe we can use him as leverage for something more sinister later. Your friends will be all too happy to let me go and get myself killed in their stead, I should think."

The Red Spy sighed, muling over the ridiculous idea as he rubbed his chin and looked over the Sniper with doubt and an arched brow, "Well.. I can't very well stop you, but I assume you'll be wanting my Deadringer, won't you?"

"That would be most helpful."

"Pfuh," he snorted, "Go and ask zhe others. If they approve it? Well.. See if they do. Zhen we can talk about zhis.. _silly_ idea of yours."

He did not expect the Sniper to get right up and go to do just that, but he indeed grabbed his hat and left the Spy staring after him. "..don't be a fool," he murmured quietly.


	13. Act 13: Red Tape

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

The Sniper felt at ease in the hallway this time. It'd been a while since the fighting, the hour was growing late, and everyone seemed to have settled back down. It was the perfect environment in which to go Spy hunting! Unfortunately however, the Spies were much like frogs. The slightest unexpected sound and they'd leap into the river or, in this case, invisibility. His shoes did little to aide him in being stealthy, but he did eventually manage to track one of the suited wonders down..

The Spy stood near a newly-constructed teleporter, observing it for god knows what reason and unable to hear the Sniper's approach over its steady whirring. He did, however, hear the man clearing his throat and nearly toppled over in his hurry to spin around and face him.

The Sniper was close -- too close. The teleporter even prevented him from stepping back and regaining his personal space.

"Ergh," he muttered distastefully as he straightened his posture and brushed off the front of his suit, "Yes? And what do _you_ want?" The Sniper daringly reached forward and plucked a bit of lint off the man's shoulder and smiled as he stepped back and shook it from his fingertips. The Spy looked positively rigid with suspicion and crossed his arms.

"Oy wanted to ask the Spoy club what it thought about an idea of mine. Similar reasoning as last time, understand?"

"Mmhm, yes, I _thought_ we had zhings settled already?" He was careful not to say anything too revealing. First rule of Spy club? Don't talk about Spy club.

"Similar, mate. There's some changes this time."

The Spy sighed with obvious exasperation and unfolded his arms, "Speak as we walk, simpleton."

They moved on from there, walking the empty corridors of the Red base with increasing ease. Much as he had talked the first Spy into submission, the Sniper tried to place the man in a position of at least professional comfort. It wasn't successful at first, but in time the masked man began to show signs of relaxation. A hand in the pocket, a cigarette hung loose on the lips. The Sniper's steady eyes even caught a smile or two -- one of which was even genuine and not condescending!

"Supposing we actually decide to allow zhis nonsense.. What in zhe world provoked you to cook up such a.. a.."

"Stupid idea?"

"Oui."

"Well, mate, you like to go on about how intellectually deficient the rest of us are. Maybe you're onto something," the Sniper offered as he adjusted his quiver. His Kukri was still inside as well as his arrows. The loss of his bow wasn't something he wanted to publicly own up to just yet. He might even retrieve it if he got lucky.. "Anyway," he continued, "Oy know how he acts, Oy know how to take him down. What's more, he certainly won't be expecting _me_."

The Spy removed his cigarette and inclined his chin to blow smoke around. He was a tad shorter than the Sniper, resulting in the Aussie getting a faceful of it. Preferring not to gripe, the Sniper simply turned his head and avoided the smoke as best he could.

"You have a point, Monsieur," the Spy admitted with a touch of respect, "And gusto, I must say. There are not many willing to go out of zheir way to apprehend a man of our caliber.."

"So you'll think about it?"

"I have thought about it. I like zhis idea," he said with a simper, "You do our work for us and you do so willingly. How could I not?"

"Then it's up to your mates.."

"Ah yes.. but zhey ought to share my feelings on zhe matter," assured the Spy with a shake of his cigarette.

The Sniper shrugged and let the man take another drag from it as they continued walking. He'd noticed that the Spy was taking him somewhere though the route was indirect. To the briefing room again. Really? No wonder it always smelled like an ashtray in there. Soldiers with their cigars and Spies with their lady sticks -- the perfume of business and things getting done.

"**MAGGOTS**!" came a loud yell from the right.

Both men came to a halt, the Spy fully composed with a hand in his pocket and the other brushing off his suit and the Sniper looking as though he could care less about the authority behind the yell.

It was a Soldier, speak of the devil.

"Where is your weapon!" he demanded of the Aussie, stepping up and staring him down through the opaque rim of his helmet.

The Sniper arched a brow, "The fighting ended roughly two hours ago, mate."

"The fighting _**never **_ends, soldier!" the man insisted, a few flecks of spittle flying against the Aussie's cheek.

He simply sighed and wiped them off, much to the amusement of the Spy beside them, "Look, mate, I'll go and get it then if it makes you happy. Will it?"

The Soldier clamped a hand solidly over the Sniper's shoulder and shook him lightly, "Be on your toes, soldier! You never know when the enemy could strike.. They could be all around us! Anywhere!" he glared suspiciously at the Spy before his covered eyes moved back to the man in his grasp. "_Stay sharp_," he whispered, his voice subdued as if to hide his words from the Spy standing less than two feet away.

The Sniper pitied the constant threat mentality of the Soldiers at times, this being one of them. Nonetheless, he put on a stern look of respect and nodded curtly to the militant man, "Will do, sir. You can count on me." Playing along was usually the best way to go with Soldiers. Everyone usually learned that early on though no one really liked it.

Satisfied, the Soldier straightened his posture and marched away to continue his rounds!

The Spy flicked a bit of ash from his cigarette down to the floor and pressed onward with the Sniper gladly walking at his side. They didn't speak again until they'd reached the briefing room and the other three Spies who occupied it. They regarded him with looks similar to the first time, but the ice broke faster once a bit of body language was exchanged between his leading Spy and the others.

They all sat down together -- or at least two sat with the Sniper. The others insisted on standing around and trying to look imposing behind and across from him.

"Now.." the Sniper said after a bit, "Oy realize some of you might doubt my ability to do this, understandable of course. But consider the benefits. Worst case scenario is that I get murdered."

"Not a bad trade-off," one of the Spies mused. He was behind the Sniper and so, when one of the others elbowed him, the Aussie missed it entirely.

The two sitting with him exchanged glances. The one across from him lit a fresh cigarette and shrugged, "I see no reason why not. ..but the technology."

The Spy to his left nodded and the one to his right spoke, "Indeed. Eet is critical zhat zhey remain on your person and zhat zhey are not lost."

"Could always handcuff them to me," said the Sniper, his expression holding all the sarcasm and allowing his voice to sound genuine.

The Spy on his left chuckled, joined by the man across from him as the Spy standing behind him strode around the table indifferently.

Tapping the table with his knuckle, the Spy standing across from the Sniper smirked, "Go and do it zhen. But please.." he stood straight, "Keep us informed. Tell us when you have captured him. One of us will be at zhe cell when you arrive to help.. _sedate_ him."

The Sniper leaned back in his seat and pinched the bridge of his nose before flexing his sore shoulder and nodding grimly, "That Oy can do. Are we finished here?"

The man across from him smiled and held his hands up in a liberating manner, "You may go."

"Good luck, Monsieur Sniper," said the previously-elbowed Spy. He was paying more attention now and seemed curious about how things would turn out.

"Indeed," said the Red to his right, "You will certainly need it."


	14. Act 14: On Safari: SpyHunting

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

The next two days went slowly. The Sniper continued to check on and aid his patient, the Spy continued to recover, and the battlefield was avoided by both in favor of proper planning.

As night fell on that second day, the Spy was alert and pacing around his room while the Sniper sat on the man's desk and fiddled with the watch that had replaced his own. It was a plain-looking thing. Three buttons, a digital face, not fancy by any means save for what looked like a genuine leather strap. In fact.. the Sniper could swear he'd seen something identical fall out of a cereal box once.

But the Spy had claimed it would help him far more than the Deadringer. He'd actually refused to hand over that device, insisting that it could be lost too easily whereas this new gadget, called a 'Cloak and Dagger', would have to be removed manually (or with the rest of his forearm).

"..And zhe third button sets an alarm," concluded the Spy who was apparently well enough to be smoking a cigarette.

"What for?"

"For waking up, of course. One can never be late to a meeting, you know?"

The Sniper was tickled by that mundane function though the others intrigued him. A button to cloak and a button to de-cloak.. He could become invisible! ..but only for a short while if he moved and indefinitely if he stood still. That would work just fine, he thought, being that most of his work was done from a stationary position. "Well.. Oy suppose that's it mate," said the Aussie.

He stood to collect his rifle and strap it to his back.

It wouldn't be long before he embarked on his mission, but the Spy didn't seem finished with him just yet. He certainly looked like he wanted to say something, but even with the Aussie peering at him, no words came.

The Sniper was merciful enough to start off, "Unless there's more?"

"Zhat.. is a difficult piece of equipment to come by, Monsieur Sniper," he said, his hazel eyes moving from the man's wrist to his face, "I expect you'll bring it back in one piece?"

The Sniper smiled, taking a second meaning to the Spy's words and nodding, "I'll bring it back in as few as I can, mate. Wish me luck?"

"Non. Luck is no match for skill."

"Dumb luck certainly is."

"Well.. dumb luck to you, zhen," he saluted the Sniper with his cigarette, retiring to sit in his desk chair as the Sniper left. A headache today, but no fever. As he soothed his temple with one hand, he couldn't help but smile at what he'd just done.

-I sent a Sniper out to fight like a Spy. So zhis is where my zense of humor went..-

Down those same halls again, the Sniper walked directly toward the hangar. He knew exactly where he was going and, after stepping outside, wasn't long in climbing one of the sniping posts in search of one of his comrades.

The blonde Sniper was panning the area, a relaxed smile on his face as he waited for a head to pop out of the darkness before him. Any kind would do -- he liked target practice. His deep concentration caused him to jolt when there was a knock on the back of his tower. He suspiciously went to investigate, hand upon the handle of his Kukri as he pushed the hatch open with his shoe.

"G'day," said the black-haired Sniper with a tip of his hat.

It took the blonde man a moment to recognize him past the bandages (which he had refreshed by himself into a less embarrassing style..) though it did click and he soon smiled down at him before allowing entry.

The two of them sat near the frontal port, both of them mounted on their guns and eyeing their scopes as they chatted quietly.

"Oy'm goin' after one of their Spies tonight. After 'is last embarrassment, he'll be prowlin' for blood out there somewhere.." the dark-haired Aussie explained.

"Mm.. Ok, anything else?"

"Yeh, I might come off as a Spy if you're gonna be watchin' me."

The blonde lifted his gaze from his scope long enough to give the man an awkward look before deeming it safe to return to his observation, "And uh.. why's that?"

"Borrowed a gadget from my pet Spoy."

"He's been upgraded to pet 'as 'e?"

They both laughed about it, knowing full well that the sneaky class was too prideful to ever stand such a title much less play along by it.

Soon the Red Sniper was good to go, visiting two other Snipers on-duty at the moment including a red-haired Aussie/Irishman. His accent was.. interesting to say the least. He was one of their newest recruits and his fiery temper reflected as much. Still, he received the news just as the other Snipers had, agreeing to keep an eye out and be sure not to shoot his own team mate by error.

It was all down to the black-haired Sniper now, a last itch given to his bandaged face before he dropped to the ground and started prowling.

Another round of the area, another night, another unsuccessful attempt to find and murder wandering Reds..

The Blu Spy adjusted his tie for the fifth time that hour, peering around the perimeter of the area with an irritated frown. Murder? Please.. He hadn't been able to kill a man this entire time. A lucky tag on the arm of an enemy Medic, perhaps, but he simply.. didn't have the reflexes required for cold-blooded killing. He was tense, irritable, and embarrassingly behind on his training. The thrill of wanting to be a Spy had worn off through his teens. His twenties had been spent snapping confidential photographs and infiltrating top secret areas with the greatest of stealth!

But through it all? Not a single kill.. He'd smudged that truth a bit on his resume and, miraculously, here he was. Blu team, blue face mask, and a shameful case of cold feet in the face of battle.

Under the cover of darkness he moved forward and glanced about, hand to his wrist as he fell into the shadows and melted from view.

The Sniper was hunting.

His senses felt sharp, his uncovered eyes alive with intent and sweat slowly staining his bandages. It felt a lot like the safaris he used to engage in back home. Kukri in hand, the Aussie walked with limber limbs and subtle steps. He was invisible as he came upon the catwalk from several nights ago, being sure to skirt the place before looking for his lost bow.

Hah!

It was muddy and a bit pressed into the earth, but it was there..

Painstaking slowness kept him quiet as he pulled it from the dirt and set it behind a crate with his quiver. Now armed with just his knife and rifle, he pressed onward and allowed an expectant sneer to creep across his mouth. The cloak flickered and thus he stopped immediately until it solidified once more.

As he did, however, he took note of a rapidly-dissipating plume of smoke emerging from just around the corner. He hastily crouched, waiting..

Uncloaked, the Blu Spy stepped out with his knife at his side. He gazed off into the distance toward the Red base, an unreadable expression on his face for a few moments until he frowned and turned away to head off in another direction. His cloak needed to recharge though he kept a hand at his wrist and prepared to vanish at the drop of a hat.

Unfortunately, he never got the chance.

"_Got'cha_," he heard whispered, whirling around to see.. nothing?

Quite suddenly, smoke swooped around him and a capable pair of hands grabbed his wrists. He struggled, eyes wide with surprise, " _AH! __**Unhand me!**_"

His wrists were gripped painfully tight, twisted in a familiar fashion until again he stood disarmed, "_Argh!_" Just as swiftly as he had been caught, he felt his wrists moved to just one of his captor's hands. Metal glinted in the moonlight and he feared the worst until the telltale clack of handcuffs reached his masked ears. An arm secured itself around his waist, the other thrusting a.. ooh.. a large.. LARGE blade up against his throat and causing him to flinch backward against his assailant's chest. He squeaked subtly, too flabbergasted by the swift apprehension to say anything of value.

"Walk," came the demand.

The Spy's eyes widened again, this time with rage as he recognized the voice. That.. That Sniper! That Red Sniper!

He received a rude kick to the backs of his knees, slumping with discomfort though the Aussie's strong grip prevented him from falling. "Non!" the Spy ventured, a slight crack to his voice which the Sniper immediately preyed upon. Oh yes, he could practically smell the man's fear..

The handcuffs? He knew they'd come in handy for more than just securing intel. In essence they were still doing that only the Spy was much chattier than a briefcase..

It was no issue for him to inflict a distracting cut to the man's neck as he spun him around and swept him up over one shoulder like baggage. "Merde! Put me **down**!" the Spy wailed. He was probably upset, but that tone of voice didn't convince the Aussie to do anything of the sort. On the contrary, he held the Spy's legs tightly and carried him back toward the Red Base.

His bow and quiver could wait. It wasn't like there were any Spies around to come and take them..


	15. Act 15: The Drug And The Truth

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

The Red Spies seized control of the situation in an admirable fashion usually reserved for the secret service and politicians.

The Sniper handed the prisoner off to their care, letting them use their stealth to transport the Blu Spy soundlessly to the store room they had turned into a holding cell. A ventilation shaft sat in the room, a heavy fan blade swinging inside of it from its position up on the ceiling. With all of the other windows (vented by metal) being set so high on the walls, no one worried much for escape.

He hadn't seen the room since its transformation and had been instructed by the Spies to hold back until they had completed their own interrogations of the captive. Fine by him..

"So.. what are you boys gonna do with him?" asked the Engineer. He always worked the Sniper's hangar door and the two had a distant yet pleasant relationship between them. Tonight the Sniper stood at his side, helping him guard the door while he waited for his chance to get at the Blu prisoner.

"Oy thought we might start off nice. But.. I've got no trouble getting my hands dirty if he gives any lip," said the Aussie as he cleaned his bow. He'd gone back out for it and now tended to it with finish and a damp rag. He hadn't been lucky enough to find his glasses, but it wouldn't be hard to order in a new pair.

The Engineer sat beside his Sentry and began to tighten the bolts thoughtfully. "Are we going to be killing this one?" he asked.

It wasn't the first time Red had taken prisoners. It didn't occur often, but when it did things simply became too dangerous for the prisoners to be allowed to live. As a matter of fact, the Aussie himself was usually tasked with killing them. The Sniper didn't answer right away, though the Engineer was used to him taking his time. He was precise, short on words when thoughtful, and a well-thought sort of man who kept his temper on a short leash.

"Oy imagine that's up to him, mate," he said finally, looking from the bow to his mechanic companion.

The Blu Spy breathed slowly, dazed eyes wandering the spinning blades in the vent above him as his head lolled back and forth with unfocused dizziness. It was morning, from what he could see through the high-set windows. Try as he may, he couldn't remember the night prior with any clarity. His head felt heavy, his tongue sluggish and thick in his mouth as he swallowed and let his eyes slide shut.

At the moment, the soreness in his back didn't register. He'd been strapped to a wooden chair all night with those cuffs still upon his wrists while rope secured his ankles to the chair legs. Save for the Sniper's cut and a tiny syringe wound in his neck, he appeared unharmed.

The air was thick enough to chew, heat rolling in and sunlight blinding him as he opened his eyes and watched the dawn turn into morning. Dust floated through the air, visible as it rode along the beams of harsh sun and dispersed throughout the room. He shut his eyes again, trying to remember last night..

'Vhelcome to zhe Red base..' it had started off as a Medic, 'Heheh.. oh, give him more time, zhe compound has not yet gone into complete effect..' no, it was a Spy now. Disguised, filtering between Medic and his true class as he stepped around the chair.

Nothing.

..nothing.

'I am your friend, Herr Spy, tell me...'

Broken memories swirled around in the back of his mind, his eyes opening as he shook his head and tried to come to his senses. The drug! Damn it all.. the experimental drug Blu had been working on. Somehow the Reds had gotten a hold of it and were using _him_ as their guinea pig! It was a sedative though an unexpected side effect had doubled it as a truth serum as well. How much had he said? How long would it stay inside his body? The questions flowed together with a fresh wave of disorientation.

He lolled his head forward and stared through the wall in front of him without focus as he heard the door creaking open behind him..

The door shut, the door locked. Crows cawed outside the window, their shadows flitting across the floor before silence swept through the desolate room. Was he still alone? Was he hearing things? Footsteps.. They stopped. The Blu Spy squinted and shut his eyes hard as he tried to concentrate. Soreness shot up his spine along with the attempt, waking awareness finally coming to him as he looked at the wall rather than through it and saw the shadow of a hat-wearing individual looming behind him.

"They've drained you dry, mate," drawled the Sniper.

The Blu Spy said nothing, his breath hitching in his throat before he forced himself to calm down. A hand graced his shoulder, remaining there as the Aussie stepped around the chair and turned to look at him from the side. He crouched down a bit, mocking the Spy by looking up at him and offering a false sense of power. The Spy fell for it utterly, looking sharply to him and feeling pride rise and fall in his chest.

"All that's left is your life; things are lookin' brown bread for you.." his gravelly tone had returned, measured dislike apparent in his eyes.

The Spy realized this was the first time he'd ever seen them. All Snipers protected their eyes while fighting -- even his own. It sent a chill through his tired body to see this man so close, so real and accompanied by such a frighteningly deep gaze.. He frowned at him, eyes narrowed with what little pride he maintained, "Zhen kill me."

The Sniper smiled wistfully and pushed himself to his feet as he patted the Spy's shoulder and pulled his hand away from it. He made sure the Spy saw him wiping his hand off on his vest as a gesture of disgust.

"What are you doing here? We both know you aren't a fighter."

The Spy kept his frown, staring after the Sniper as he began pacing in a circle until he couldn't see him anymore, "What more do you want? Obviously zhere is _some_zhing or we would not be having zhis conversation."

"Oh yeh, mate," the Sniper murmured, "There is.."

On the other side of the base, the Red Spy decided to venture from his room. He was in need of a shower and, more importantly, some liberty. Being cooped up in his room was only tolerable for so long and so long as the Sniper wasn't there to nag him, he could get away with some mild freedoms, couldn't he? Of course he could! And he did.

He showered, shaved (not to the skin, however. No self-respecting Spy would shave away the stubble of an intellectual), and had a change of clothes before heading toward the briefing room with a jovial bounce in his step. Okay, so he wasn't back to his usual slink. He still felt a bit off-balance, but at least he could hurry around as he pleased.

Letting himself in, he was intrigued by the.. lack of colleagues. One sat within, smiling at his entry and exhaling a bit of smoke, "Zhey said you'd come."

By nature, the two of them smoked like chimneys and got right to business.

In the process, the Red Spy learned the status of the kidnapping, the methods used. He was.. somewhat surprised by the quick synthetization of the chemicals used, even more surprised that they were used at all. Chemical warfare had never really been apparent between the two warring factions before this point.

The other Spy in the room tossed a folder on the table, gesturing to it with his cigarette, "In any case.. If it interests you, _zhis_ is why your leetle friend is taking his time in zhat room."

Peering down at it, the Spy blinked. He had a strong feeling there was something larger going on than a simple capture and kill. This document would only sate his curiosity. As he sunk down into a chair, he furrowed his brow and removed his cigarette to tap some ash into a nearby waste basket.

As he dug into the reports and photographs inside, however, he found himself furrowing his brow even more..

His masked companion smiled and looked at his own cigarette, "Would you have guessed?"

The Red Spy shook his head subtly and put his smoke stick back into his open mouth as he hefted a particular photograph a bit higher in the light and ran his eyes over what it depicted.

"Eet iz why most of us distrust him. Eet is why.. we have him shoot zhe prisoners. Just to be certain he is _really _one of ours."

Setting the file down in silence, the Red Spy could only stare and think. The Red Sniper.. was once actually Blu.


	16. Act 16: We Attack Tomorrow

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

The Blu Spy lay belly down on the most minimalist medical cot he had ever seen in his life. By comparison, however, it was a dream compared to the chair he'd been occupying only hours ago. The Sniper and a Red Engineer had wheeled it in, probably from their infirmary though it looked to have fallen into disrepair. One of the wheels was missing.

He had expected bruises, blood loss. He had expected the beating of his life followed by cruel torture and a slow death, that's how Blu did things anyway..

But no.

In the hours following the Sniper's arrival, the Spy had been broken in a different way -- his mind.

He shifted against the thick leather strap holding his back to the bed, his wrists bound over his head now and his ankles tied together with the same rope that had lashed him to the chair. Hatred and sorrow mingled inside him from the things he had learned.

It could have been the drug, he thought, making him sensitive to the power of suggestion. Yes.. that had to be it. For a good part of the morning, the Sniper laid into him with a different tactic of interrogation. He pulled so hard on the Spy's inexperienced nerves that they quite nearly snapped in his efforts to keep control of his head and remain unswayed by the man's persuasive words and intimidating body language. It was all a trick.. That bit about the Spies having drained him dry of intel? It was a lie..

Just before the Sniper had left the room, he had informed the Blu that the drug had simply caused him to pass out without incident. That he had never uttered a word of information until the Sniper drew it craftily from him.

-Stupid,- he thought.. -How could I be so.. stupid?-

He wasn't trained for this -- he'd never been captured before. That smudge on his resume rapidly became a stain. ..and now his team would suffer for it.

The Red Spy had since returned to his room and was in the process of locking his newly-acquired intel inside a wall-safe when he heard a knock at the door.

It could only be one person, really, by he still went the route of the eye slot, "Oui, Monsieur?"

"Oh good, you're walkin' about. Oy just got done chatting with your friends about.. the news," the Aussie decided to use the same vague terms as the other Spies if for no other reason than to calm the nerves of the Spy standing on the other side of the door, "They said they'll send it all along, later. More importantly, how goes it? Still need me about or can I go collapse in my room?"

The Red Spy stood there thinking.

Instantly he wished to fling the door open and grab the Sniper inside to lay into him about his past. That was only natural curiosity, a feeling he calmly ignored in favor of his more professional indifference. So he took stock of himself and decided he wasn't in need of any immediate care.

"I'm feeling rather well, actually."

"Aw'right then, mate. I can leave you be then."

"Actually," the Spy interjected, hoping to stop the man as he turned. It worked but he soon found he was without words. "..never mind. Carry on."

The Spy didn't see the Sniper for some time after that. Whether he was asleep or back on the job, he wasn't sure. He decided not to dwell on it and instead went about his own duties. The Spies met with the Soldiers, discussing the prisoner at length in the briefing room. Many of the men were sitting -- there was more oxygen on the lower half of the room anyway.

"Jhentlemen?" started a standing Spy. He had his hands rested on the tabletop, hip cocked comfortably as a smirk held up his cigarette, "Surely you are aware of why zhis meeting was called?"

A few grunts went around the table, some blew acknowledging smoke.

The Spy stood straight, beginning to pace around the room where his colleagues were leaning and sitting on objects not designed to be sat on. "We have several options at zhe moment.. We can kill him, try to draw more information from him, or we can let him go once we have determined he is no longer of use."

A couple men laughed and a Soldier piped up, "Letting that maggot free is a no go, soldier! He'll die for his faction and he'll do it gladly!"

A secondary Spy hummed and tapped an unlit cigarette against its metal case, "Wouldn't it be too respectful allowing him a quick death? I zhink he should have to face his team after what he has done.."

Yet another Spy, one who was currently smoking several cigarettes at once, put his two cents in, "Indeed. Jhentlemen, I think we must consider zhis from two standpoints. What are _we_ going to do, and what are _zhey_ going to do."

"Sending him back as a traitor would certainly rile them up," said a lanky Soldier with some thought.

"Perhaps we should discuss the intel first," vocalized a fourth Spy.

The room looked at him suspiciously. It was the Red Spy who had befriended the Sniper though it was more the idea of what he proposed that irked them. They wanted to deal with the man first and handle the facts later. Realizing this, the Spy amended his statement, "He will not be going anywhere. Surely zhis judgment can be passed later once we know for sure we have everyzhing zhat he does?"

Again a series of grunts, both agreeing and thoughtful, went around the room. The many-cigged Spy lit and placed a fifth cigarette into his mouth with a neutral scoff.

So they spoke intel.

They spoke about the drug, they discussed the weaponry, they talked about rockets and chemicals, steroids, and experimenting the Blu Medics had been concocting for months in a sub-level of the Blu base. Rumors, facts, hunches, and idle thoughts. The men shook out every idea they could muster (mostly on behalf of the Soldiers; they loved to talk) until finally it was decided that interrogation would continue and the Blu Spy would be kept for a ransom of some type.

That ransom would be decided another day. For now an even more pressing decision was reached -- they would be attacking the Blu base. The Red weaponry had been upgraded and it was the opinion of their Engineers that they'd been able to get even better results by building beyond the stolen blueprints. Tomorrow morning all hell would break loose as it so often did and the standoff would finally come to a close -- at least for now.

The Red Sniper?

He was oblivious to the inner workings of the briefing room as he sat at his rickety wooden desk by the light of a dingy old lamp and filled out a post card.

_Dear Mum,_

_I hope you know I miss you and Dad terribly._

_Things have been pretty quiet on the battlefield and it makes me wish I had someone to talk to. Sometimes I feel alone out here, but I know I will always have my team and, more importantly, you to ease my mind._

_I'm really very happy where I am. I love my work, the pay is excellent, and they even give us beds! I think the fighting will start again soon, but don't worry. I'll make sure I take good care of myself. So far so good - I promise I'll do you proud. Tell Dad I love him._

_PS - I got that scarf you made for me - It's wonderful! I know I'm going to need it in the coming months._

_PPS - Does he know he's allowed to write back to me?_

He stared at the card, waiting for the ink to dry as he leaned back and listened to the chair beneath him as it whined and groaned with age. Unlike the Spy's, his room was rather rustic. Wooden desk, wooden chair, wooden shelves... the bed was metal but that was standardized. A long sigh of relaxation left him, tense shoulder rolling as he gripped the sides of his chair and got to his feet.

Soon he arrived at his mirror, staring at his haggared reflection and the way his mouth curved into a natural look of sour, unimpressed business. He tried a smile. There, that was better. Now for those bandages..

As he unraveled them, he felt the air caress the sensitive flesh beneath. It hadn't seen daylight since his initial injury and he himself hadn't looked too closely at it either. The last strip left his brow as he collected the mess into his hand and dropped it into his waste bin. Mmh..

Turning his head, he pulled up a hand to trace the scarring wound. It was clean, blood having stopped coming for a good while now ever since the Medic had removed his stitches. A jagged line started over his right eye and carved its way across the bridge of his nose, coming to rest over his left eyebrow. It wasn't a fashion statement, it wasn't fancy. No.. as he stared at it longer, he began to regard it as simple damage and shook his head as he returned to his desk.

Pen plucked up again, he began scribbling an order for a new pair of sunglasses. They were a luxury item to most, but for daytime fighting, the Sniper considering them key.

A Soldier came by his door within the hour, informing him of the battle to come the next day. Then came his nap, a short 3-hour session that would serve to energize him enough to stay awake and then sleep tonight. The Sniper, sleeping horizontally for the first time in days, smiled bitterly against his pillow and stared with one eye open across his room, "Ought to be one hell of a fine fight.."

He closed his eye then, maintaining that smile all through his rest.


	17. Act 17: Change

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

The Red Spy startled to the sound of his Cloak and Dagger alarm going off.

He peered at it, shutting it off with a small frown as he finished his tea, shuffled his papers into a neat pile, and put everything away for safe keeping. Ah.. time to get back to work. His colleagues had requested a secondary meeting regarding some of the same issues as earlier -- Spies only this time around.

After putting his suit in order and fixing his mask, he stepped out the door feeling much refreshed and prepared to face the tedious details.

..at least until a curious noise distracted him.

Slam! Whack! Kick!

"Why does machine not work!"

Almost comically, the suited man popped his head and shoulders around the corner to view one of the team's Heavies failing at working the Bonk soda machine -- or, as he observed, the Dispenser an Engineer had built beside it. Why the base featured either of those objects (much less right next to each other) he could only guess.

Meeting. Help the stupid Heavy. Meeting. Help the stupid. .. sigh.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Heavy.. Please, allow me," said the Spy as he stepped into view and swiftly approached the Bonk machine. It carried other things: Bonk, Cherry Bonk, Lemon/Lime Bonk, Diet Bonk, Bonk Plus, and water (surprising healthy compared to the alternatives). "I do believe zhis is zhe machine you wish to use, yes?" He gestured graciously to it with his hand.

The Heavy shifted his jaw and stared at it and then the Spy with confusion before a big and happy smile crossed his face!

"Spy is helpful?" before the smaller man could nod and graciously step away, the Heavy grabbed him and crushed him to his chest. "Spy is credit to team!"

"Spy.. Spy is choking~" he rasped.

The Heavy set him back down and patted his head thankfully. The Spy grimaced and arched his shoulders defensively though he didn't complain audibly, "Zhank you, yes. Credit to team, whatever.. Good day to you, Monsieur.."

Shuddering, the Spy brushed off his sleeves and headed off toward the briefing room while the Heavy made surprisingly intelligent use of the soda machine behind him. What had prompted the helpful initiative? The past week had been spent relying on the help of others. You might say it rubbed off on him even if minimally..

And this sentiment did not simply end with the Spy, oh no!

Subtle changes had begun to navigate the base like one of the Scouts' rumors, jumping person to person with the _littlest_ instigation..

The Demoman who had witnessed the Sniper toting the Spy around in his arms had vowed not to drink for the next 24 hours (it was all he could manage, honestly) in hopes that it would clear the hallucination from his mind. It had to be a hallucination -- those things didn't happen on the Red team. As a result, he remained sober for that time and was able to take notice of a Pyro pushing a large box of flare gun cartridges down the hallway.

Being the curious sort, he stepped up and asked why the man wasn't using a dolly. Though it was difficult to translate 'Mm-mpph Mmmm mm mmh!' into words, his sobered mind eventually took it to mean 'it's broken, just like everything else in this shitty base'. From there, having nothing better to do, the Demoman offered to help the Pyro carry the box. He liked to show his strength around and the opportunity seemed to fall right into his lap!

On the way to their destination they had passed a Scout playing catch with himself against one of the base's walls.

He had been having a dull, crappy day. First the Sniper showed him and his pally up in the mess hall and then the Medic wasn't in the infirmary so they had to find bandaging and handle things themselves! It sucked on ice, he thought, tossing the ball angrily and catching it as it bounced back sharply into his palm with such force that his wrist groaned.

That's when he heard singing.

The one-eyed Scotsman was singing away and he and the Pyro walked sideways to carry the box through a doorway just past the Scout's wall. He stopped what he was doing to watch them go, pushing up the brim of his hat and staring dumbfounded at what he had just seen. He even went so far as to go and look up the hall after them just to make sure he wasn't seeing things..

Later that same day, the Scout came across an Engineer near the hangar.

He was in the process of opening the door, letting a Pyro and a Soldier back inside when suddenly his Sentry gun flipped into full alarm. A thin black rectangle swept under the door, clacking against the base of the gun with a sharp sound that made everyone jolt. Blue sparks shot out from the device like tentacles, wrapping up the Sentry and causing it to go haywire.

"Everybody get back!" the Engineer hollered, herding the men away just as the Sentry exploded. The Hangar door slammed shut on its own without the Engie to hold it up, causing bits of metal to bounce all over the area. The Scout came trotting over with a 'let me at 'em!' look on his face. The Soldier had been hit by shrapnel, his hand clamped over his shoulder as blood rapidly stained his uniform. "I've been hit! Man down!" he exclaimed.

"Dang nabbit dabbit _daggit!_" the Engineer burbled. He was shaken up from the near-death experience, staring at his sparking Sentry with a mixture of fury and dismay.

Engies were hilarious when upset, but even the Scout knew this wasn't the time to be laughing, "The hell just happened, man!"

The Pyro muttered something through his mask and the Engineer nodded, "Good idea, you'd best head over to the Doc's, Soldier. Scout? How's about you get out there and see if you can put a dent in that Spy for us?"

"Aw man, you bet.." the Scout said, eager to do some damage or, he thought, help out a bit.

And it went on and on.. Word got around about the incident, about who did what.

People opened their eyes, saw more, did more. It was a very subtle movement, but as the Sniper stepped out of his room the day before the great battle with the Blus, he could already see it at work as a Scout passed a Pyro and slapped him a high-five.

..he needed coffee, he decided.


	18. Act 18: Game Night

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

"Thot's when I clocked him in the head wit' mah Scrumpeh! Hah! Yoo should have seen the look on 'is face," the Demoman recounted as he waved a fresh bottle around.

"Hm hm hmhmhm!" laughed the Pyro.

They were in the mess hall this evening, eating together at one of the tables near the wall and swapping war stories. The Pyro tipped his mask up every now and then to eat his food, pushing it back down afterwards. While most assumed he wore the mask for show, this Pyro in particular wore it because it helped him to breathe. Smoke and asthma had damaged his lungs from an incident long ago and, with the Medic's help, he could now run around with the same stamina as everyone else.

It was the night before the big attack. It would finally break the tense silence between the teams and thrust them back into the usual business of battle and mayhem. Energy buzzed throughout the base -- some were happy with the prospect of war and others would mourn the loss of the off-time they'd been enjoying. So then, it was no surprise that the Pyro and Demoman were not the only ones sitting around and chatting.

A few Soldiers groups around a table in the corner, a few Engineers and a stray Spy played cards at another. Some people sat alone, some sat with acquaintances, some talked and others still ate in silence. The Scouts seemed spread all over the room, at least one worming his way into each of the conversations of the other men. It was natural, Scouts loved to get dirt on other people and the best way to do that was to snoop and pry for information.

One Scout remained alone, however.

It was the Scout who had been beaned in the head with a briefcase and, while the injury had long since been healed, still seemed to be dwelling on it. He was startled when a tray was set down beside him and the Red Sniper sat down in the chair accompanying it.

His reaction was a defensive scowl, eyes narrowed as he stared the Aussie down, "The hell do you want?"

"You should always watch your head, mate," the man said calmly. He was even smiling a little which drove the Scout crazy!

"Aw _hell_ no. Don't you fuckin' come in here all smug and--"

"How's it feelin'?"

The Scout sputtered at the interruption, blinking and frowning and.. generally trying to make sense of that question, "I'm fine, asshole."

"Good," said the Sniper, plucking up his coffee and gesturing briefly toward the Scout as he sat back in his chair and held it near his chest, "Sorry for laying you out, by the way. You _really_ shouldn't pry into a man's pers'nal space if you know what's good for you."

He was apologizing? ..sort of. The Scout didn't like it, it confused him and caused his frown to falter.

The Sniper continued after a sip of his coffee, preventing the Scout from saying anything in his own defense, "I 'ear you've been spreadin' rumors around, mate, is that true?"

Sniffing defiantly, the Scout scratched at his shoulder and looked at the table angrily before glancing back over, "Why you askin'? Scared 'cause they're true?"

The Sniper chuckled, smiling pleasantly, "Not in the slightest. I'm not the one who shaves 'is chest."

The Scout stared at him with wide, affronted eyes. He felt his fists clench under the table but merely bristled his shoulders and glared at the Aussie..

The marksman observed the boy's posture, reaching right over to pat one of those stiff shoulders in a reassuring fashion, "But not to worry, mate. I'm too old for teenage drama. You won't be seeing any rumors from my side."

"Dun fuckin' touch me.." the Scout murmured half-heartedly as he wiggled away from the man's hand.

The Sniper left him alone for a few minutes in order to eat his meal. The Scout was too rattled by his presence to touch his food, so he grabbed his can of Cherry Bonk and nursed it anxiously. He nearly dropped it when the Sniper spoke again.

"So we're finally goin' after the Blu team again. Are you ready?"

"A-always."

The Sniper arched an amused eyebrow at his stutter.

The Scout merely frowned and attempted to sound more composed, "Yea, douchebag, I'm fuckin' ready."

"Good."

Night was falling steadily outside of the Red base.

The mess hall had cleared out, the hallways were empty, and even the Sentry guns seemed to be dormant though the occasional whir would remind one of their constant vigilance.

Sitting at his desk, the Sniper examined the temporary pair of sunglasses he'd be using the next day. To be more specific, they were actually goggles. His pal the Engineer had loaned them to him, always keeping a second pair around on the off chance that an explosion rendered them useless. Well.. It might look a little silly, but the Sniper would take whatever he could get.

_Knock Knocka Knock Knock.... Knock Knock._

The subdued sound reached his ears from the door, goggles placed on the desktop as he pushed back his creaking chair and went to go answer it. He had no eye slot on his door -- no key card lock either. Pulling the deadbolt out and twisting the handle, he drew it open to be greeted by nothing. He even stepped out into the hall to look around, but there was no one. Huh.. It'd been a quiet knock anyway, maybe it was nothing?

Shaking his head, the Sniper went back inside and locked up. It was the night before a big battle, he couldn't let his nerves get the best of him just because he'd had some downtime. He nodded to himself as he turned back around. That's all it was, nerves.

And those nerves received a rude shock when he caught sight of the Red Spy sitting on his desk with a devious smirk on his face.

Startled, the Aussie's back slammed into the door, "_HOWLEY_ _**DOODY!**_"

"Ahahah!" snort, "Pfahahaha!!"

"..aw'right, come off it, it's not that funny," the Sniper grumbled as he stood straight and brushed off his shoulder.

"Au contrair, mon Ami, you should have_ seen _your face," the Spy insisted. He was practically glowing with triumph even as the Sniper walked forward to push the chair under the front of the desk with a grudging sigh.

"Is there a particular reason you're in my room?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, Monsieur Sniper..." the Spy held up a quaint, dainty little bag by the handles with his index finger.

The Sniper furrowed his damaged brow at it and then the man holding it, "Wow.. no one's ever given me a_ bag _before, Spoy, I'm flattered."

The Spy shoved it against the Sniper's chest, waiting for him to take it before he went to go and sit down on the man's bed, "Don't be ridiculous -- open it. I do believe you will find some use for it tomorrow.."

He predictably took it, half expecting to find a comical lit bomb inside triggered to blow black powder into his face. What he found instead was enough to change his deep frown into a touched, confused smile. It was a coffee mug! And not just any mug, he observed as he pulled it from the bag, a white mug with black lettering wrapped around the side that said _'#1 Sniper'._

"Well I'll be.."

"Surely you lost yours when zhat tower erupted.." said the Spy idly as he produced his cigarette case and began tapping one against it as he searched for his lighter. Indeed, the mug had been a casualty of war. In lieu of it, he'd used just about anything he could find, briefly considering one of his jars though a mug was much preferred..

The Sniper, still dumbfounded by the gift, lifted his eyes to see the Spy about to light up on his bed.

"_Ah-ah_," he cautioned suddenly, stepping over to douse the flame of the man's lighter with his fingertip, "Not in 'ere, mate."

"What? Why not?" said the Spy, a look of confusion creasing his mask.

"If you want to stink up a room, you'd best do it in yours. My room's my castle."

"Really? I would zhink a cigarette might make zhis place smell better.." The Spy had a bit of a point. The place smelled of dust and wood and dirt. It was earthy, but not particularly awful seeing as the Sniper did at least have a modicum of hygiene.

The Sniper smiled, continuing to bar the man from smoking until he sighed grudgingly and put everything back into his suit with a roll of his eyes, "Party pooper."

"Wuss," countered the Sniper before he lifted the mug in gesture, "Thanks for this, though. Oy'm sure it'll get _some_ use."

"Yes, well, eef you piss in it and throw it at someone, I'll never talk to you a-gain."

"Spoy, I promise not to piss all over your gift," the Sniper said with a solemn hand over his heart.

They shared a smile then, the sarcasm of the conversation wordlessly understood by both. After a few quick words of the battle to come, they parted ways and focused on the sleep they'd need to carry them through hell in the morning.

On an entirely unrelated note, the Heavies all knew how to use the Bonk machines around base now. Things were looking up.


	19. Act 19: The Grind

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

It was a beautiful, warm morning..

The sun crawled tiredly into the sky, wiping stars from its eyes as it slowly spread tendrils of light across the world below. Shadows stretched, colors faded together, and the environment turned from natural to surreal as night gradually transitioned into day.

The Blu base remained largely shrouded in darkness, looming in the West as a black fortress highlighted with bits of blue and grey that slowly became brighter as the sun moved up. The Red base caught its light first, a bright red and orange outline kissing the contours of the Red buildings before everything began to slide into living color on both sides.

And then, in the still silence of the morning, an alarm began to _shriek_.

Like the tide creeping over a sand castle, the peaceful morning world began to crumble and fall away, shouts and loud noises replacing the serenity of chirping birds and gentle breezes with a cacophony of _**war**_.

A Blu Sniper tore his eye up from his scoped rifle, looking startled as he quickly began to alert the rest of his team. One by one, the Blus began to rouse, the Snipers on their guns and at the forefront of battle while the other classes poured out of the base like ants defending the nest.

Despite their commendable attempts to scramble to arms, the Reds were already rolling in like a carpet of combat. The Blu Snipers could only tag and kill so many at once, leaving a large number of unaccounted threats coming ever closer to the base. Scouts -- they needed Scouts! And there they were, loping ahead of their teammates with revved up determination and cold grimaces under their hats. The forerunner grinned maniacally, hoisting his bat as it glinted under the morning sun and brutally slamming it into the ribs of an advancing Pyro.

Under the adrenaline rush of first blood, it seemed like hours before the rest of the ranks clashed, weapons grinding, men falling, and bullets peppering the Earth.

The Red Sniper ran, his long legs carrying him swiftly up a rickety wooden ladder which lead to an even less stable ledge. It would take him to a stack of crates and sandbags that had been built as a sniping nest some weeks ago. Already riddled with damage, he knew he couldn't stay long though it mattered little as he threw down his rifle and snapped his goggled eye to the scope.

His fingers flexed eagerly, index tapped against the trigger as he swept his scope around and up to one of the towers flanking the main entrance to the Blu base.

"Gimme yer head, wanka.." he murmured, eye narrowing as thought it would coax the man out of hiding. There. The nose of the man's rifle slid out of an aperture to the left of where he'd been aiming, blue uniform visible through one of the cracked bits of wood covering up the area where a hole had been blown into the tower wall. He squeezed the trigger, taming his rifle as it tried to jump against him and re-manning the scope in time to see his target stumbling backwards up in the nest.

Grim-faced, the Sniper swept his scope again. The Scouts were too fast, the Spies must have been invisible, the Soldiers.. There. A Soldier with his helmet knocked off. He leveled and fired again, blowing a pinhole straight through the man's temple. Machine gun fire began to spray the Sniper's hideout, his rifle quickly withdrawn as he ducked down and let his chest hit the floor.

He remained that way for thirty seconds, appearing dead to his attacker who seemed to be aiming elsewhere for the time being.

The Sniper was quick to roll to his feet, tucking in his arms and running low to the ground as he swung down from the ledge and darted for cover behind a stack of tires across the way from his previous hideout. Slinging the rifle onto his shoulder, he spied a ladder and glanced up it as a plan rapidly formed in his head.

He stole a quick look around the tires, getting his nerve up before bolting for the ladder. An errant bullet swatted the ground behind him as he just about jumped at the metal rungs and started climbing as fast as his lanky body could manage.

No time could be spared to look around. With his back to the battle, he'd be a sitting duck until he made it to the upper ledge of the silo he was climbing.

That's when the rocket hit.

_Tsssss__**sss**_**BOOM!**

The wall of the silo dented inward, the ladder skewing off to one side and collapsing beneath the Sniper's shoes. He panicked, grappling for higher rungs and just barely managing to find the footing that would prevent a fall. The sound of a second approaching missile pierced the air, colliding with the silo and destroying the ladder entirely just as the Sniper flung himself over the top and scrambled hand and knee across the ledge.

He knew a third rocket would be on its way and that is precisely why he hopped to his feet and ran full force across the catwalk connecting that silo to the decrepit windmill beside it.

Tsssssssss-

The Sniper jumped as hard as he could, fingers clawing at the asphalt roofing of the windmill as heat blasted him from behind.

**BOOM!**

Smoke dissipated from his vest as he rapidly rolled onto his back and patted out any fire that had erupted from the flying shrapnel of the destroyed catwalk he had just come across. It creaked, bent, and eventually broke free to crush an unlucky Scout and Demoman of opposing sides beneath its smoldering heft.

Ignoring the fresh cut on his cheek, the Sniper pressed on and crawled on his stomach toward the front of the windmill.

Here the large blades spun slowly, creaking and groaning with age in much the same fashion as the Sniper's desk chair. He allowed himself to fall into their rhythm, slithering up behind them like a snake and very carefully mounting his rifle..

Down on the ground, the Red Spy ran with all his might. This place was where his slender frame hindered him the least, where what might have been considered weaknesses actually became devious strengths in the heat of battle.

He leapt and dodged enemy fire with ease, finding shelter in a similar fashion and whipping his knife into shape in order to kill anyone who might have been hiding there before him. This time it was an Engineer hard at work erecting a Dispenser for the Blus. The Spy rounded the corner and adopted the guise of a Scout as he drew near, cleverly draping his knifing arm across his waist and feigning an injury as he collapsed to his knees beside the man.

"C'mon hard hat, need that Dispenser _**now**_!"

The Engineer wielded his wrench, startled. "Settle your ass down, boy, I'm doin' my best, now hold _on_."

The Spy emitted several whines and groans of supposed pain, waiting for the Dispenser to activate before looking much relieved, "Aw man.. thank you, _zhank_ you so much."

He grinned and the Engineer hollered with fright.

A minute later and the Spy darted from the little nook fully restored and shaking blood from his knife as he collapsed it back inside of its handle. The broken Dispenser sparked behind him, its pieces littering the ground all around the dead Engineer beside it.

He cloaked past a heavy and ran up a flight of stairs to come almost nose-to-nose with an enemy Sniper. The man stumbled backward and drew his Kukri, swinging at the Spy and tagging him on the shoulder. Dropping to one knee, the Spy swore and feigned the severity of his injury long enough for the Kukri to come again and slash into his skull as a gold watch slipped from his hand.

The Sniper never even heard the knife unfolding behind him as the mirage faded away from the floor in front of him and the Spy plunged his blade straight through the back of his neck. It jutted out through his throat, leaving him grappling at his neck as he Spy grabbed his Deadringer, leapt backward, and ran off.

For many hours there was nothing but frenzied bloodshed; the Reds fought like bobcats and it was all the Blus could do to keep them from infiltrating the base.

But even their thickest defenses were distracted by the heavy fighting up front as the Red Spy darted right past one of the guarding Engineers with his cloak activated. He paused inside a doorway to let it recharge, shutting his eyes and remaining perfectly still as his heart thudded against his ribs.

Now he had his pistol out, his bloody knife clutched shakily in his free hand as he counted the seconds in his head. 3.. 2.. 1.

His eyes opened.

He prayed the sounds of bombs dropping would cover the sound of his running footsteps as he cut deeper into enemy territory. An enemy Medic dashed right past him, a surprisingly pleased grin on the physician's face as he did so.

The Spy didn't dwell on it, but no doubt the man was looking forward to collecting the wounded after the battle -- or their bodies anyway.. He knew the Blu Medics were twisted. They did terrible things to the dead and to their own wounded. Wrong things. Things that would forever remain in locked safes and behind closed doors as long as the Spies could help it.

Now he slowed down, creeping along the wall as his cloak began to flicker again. This time he let it die, glancing around with hawkish attention as he found himself past the hangars and into the less battle-oriented areas of the base.

The layout was similar to the Red's own, a fact which didn't bother him terribly much. If it worked for one team, why not another? As the Engineers might put it, _'if it ain't broke, don't touch that darn thing.'_

His mission was intel. You would assume they had enough of it, but as he crawled deeper into the Blu side of things, he found himself hungry for more. As the battle raged outside, it gave him plenty of time to skulk around. Past their mess hall. Past their washrooms. Past their infirmary. .. .

He stopped, backing up and standing still as he allowed his cloak to recharge and simultaneously disappeared from view.

Curiosity pawed at him like a needy animal, begging him to step inside see what he could find out about the Medics and their secret projects. There were rumors, certainly, but to find out what was really going on in there? The information would be priceless..

And so, with an empty suitcase strapped to his back, the Spy holstered his pistol and let himself into the room.


	20. Act 20: Deep Blue

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

The Red Sniper looked like a corpse.

His entire body was rigid and unmoving from an outward standpoint as the shadows of the swooping windmill blades fell over his back.

The windmill, he knew, was a source of electricity for both bases. It wasn't the only one -- there were generators and scattered telephone poles, but the windmill was the only one that could run off of pure nature..

The sun was getting extremely bright as the battle carried on below. It rendered the Sniper invisible against its glare to any who might have looked up to try and figure out who or what was killing men from above. Luckily the confusion of battle prevented these moments from occurring too frequently, the few who managed to discern his location being picked off before they could make use of the knowledge.

He remained joyless as he killed them all, his arm jerking slightly with every squeeze of the trigger though otherwise he remained very much a part of the aged building.

That asphalt was _damn_ hot.

Sweat meandered down the defined lines of his face, dripping from his chin and the tip of his nose like tears. Better his body cry than him, he figured, eyes blinking against the humidity of the goggles and their thick rubber straps. It was why he preferred his glasses. Those, at least, offered _some_ ventilation. But as he lay there baking in the sun he found himself concentrating less on the heat and more on the men dying far below him. His scope captured everything: the places they hid, the way they ran and snuck about, even the way they interacted..

It was like reading a miniature profile of every man present, their steps and tactics revealing much to the sharpshooter just before he placed a bullet at the end of their life stories.

It wasn't all fun and games for Red, he noticed. As his scope swept the battlefield, he saw the bodies of his comrades strewn all across the area. A Demoman lay in a ditch, quite literally half the man he used to be. An Engineer? Goodnight Irene, as he might have said.. He saw a Medic down below rushing to tend everyone within his reach while attentively diving out of the way of enemy fire.

The Sniper saw a Pyro rushing up behind the doctor, choosing to put a bullet through the man's gas tank and blow him sky-high before he could so much as singe the healer.

The resulting explosion briefly rattled the fighting men nearby, giving them all a chance to push forward and drive back the Blus even further.

By now the Sniper was playing defense for his teammates from his nest up in the windmill. Like Big Brother, he watched them all through the zoom of his scope lens and righted wrongs before they could get too dirty for his side. A Scout bludgeoning a Heavy? A bullet to the leg.. The Heavy was quick to deal with the damaged Scout, moving on to other targets as the Sniper looked elsewhere. A Spy running around on fire? A second explosion rattled the field as the Sniper classically took out another enemy Pyro.

He put them down one after another like rabid dogs, the fact of their humanity swept away from his thoughts by the steady turn of the windmill blades and the scorching heat of the sun.

Meanwhile, inside the Blu base, the Spy had begun to snoop around.

Closing the infirmary door behind him, he strode tiptoe and kept his head low as he held his knife hand loose and walked as if on a carpet of eggshells. His eyes darted sharply around the room in search of traps, scouring the counters, the drawers, and finally the small office adjacent to the examination room. Surely there would be something of value in here..

He tried the handle.

..locked.

Arching his back, the Spy glanced back into the hallway and assured no one was there to listen as he backed up and slammed his heel against the locking mechanism of the door. It rattled and snapped along the inside, the wood splintering around the edges as the infiltrator gingerly took the knob in his gloved hand and let himself inside.

Immediately he went for the file cabinet and desk, eyes rapidly scanning papers and feeding them into his briefcase like an adventurer encountering a mound of treasure.

He didn't have much time to read, but anything that looked substantial was taken. A few broken locks later and he had completely trashed the office. With the briefcase secured over one shoulder, he place his hand on his wrist and prepared to leave when he suddenly noticed a bit of.. light?

His eyes followed it along the lower edge of a wall resting behind a potted plant. It certainly wouldn't have lead outside -- he'd be able to hear the fighting if it did. Curiosity awakened once more, he pushed the office door shut and dragged the plant aside. His astute eyes followed the lower rim of the wall, looking for any hints that it might be openable. There it was. A small latch painted to match the light socket located near the bottom of the wall.

He crouched down and danced his fingers suspiciously across it before flicking it upward and waiting with his knife drawn.

At first nothing happen. He stared at it in a crestfallen fashion and then looked at the wall with a frown. Well that was highly uneventful..

_**Ffsh!**_

The Spy jumped to his feet with alarm as the wall suddenly slipped upward in a thin panel which disappeared vertically up into the ceiling. He could now see where the light was coming from -- a hallway! Lit with cold blue lighting, it seemed to head straight and then turn off to the right. He could even see stairs from where he stood, the hairs at the back of his neck raising with the discovery.

Very cautiously he moved forward and held his knife out to one side, advancing down the hallway with soft steps and a firmly-clenched chin..

The last thing he expected was to be taken from behind.

An invisible arm swooped around his neck, a sharp pain invading the side of his neck as a pressurized hiss greeted his ear and a cold sensation began to spread from the point of injection. Flailing, he cried out in vain anger and attempted to slash his assailant who only shoved him forward onto his hands and knees.

He flipped over, resting back on one elbow and blinking multiple times to try and clear his rapidly-blurring vision as he held out his knife toward his attacker. The lights swirled, re-entry smoke filled the corridor, and he began to feel very tired.

"Da, comrade.. Rest your eyes a while.. Heheheheh.." just before his eyes fluttered shut, the Spy could make out the shape of a Medic's cross on the man's upper arm. His back hit the floor, his knife soon to follow.

When he awoke, he found himself staring into oblivion. This place, wherever it was, was almost completely dark.

He turned his head groggily, taking stock of his situation with a professional calm though in truth he was just too disoriented to panic. His briefcase was missing, the intel along with it as evidenced by his ability to be laying flat on his back. He tried to bring a hand to his face, finding the movement of his arms restricted which led to him lifting his head and blinking blearily at himself.

..oh no.

Leather restraints? They were uncomfortably tight across his stomach and limbs, plenty of slack left over due to his petite frame. Unfortunately, none of that slack was on the restraining side. He felt pinned, helpless, and as he began to look around his prison, _frightened_.

He was still in his suit, his mask thankfully in place though that was the least of his worries for the moment. The room around him looked like an examination room gone terribly wrong. Several 'beds' complete with restraints and thin, ineffectual cushioning. Racks of chemicals and equipment lining the walls which were broken by the occasional door or staircase leading to god-only-knows where..

The lighting, for how little of it there was, was all tinted blue. Was it a nod to the Blu team or was it simply to enhance the horrific 'mad scientist' feel of the place?

An abject look of horror overtook him, mouth gaping as he blinked hard and tried to keep his head. He murmured softly to himself. Little French words of comfort which did not go unnoticed..

"Hmhmhmhm.."

Someone was chuckling??

The Red Spy peered around from his limited point of view, able to look in most directions, but not behind him which seemed to be where the voice was coming from. When he tried, he found he could see a dim greenish blue glow and.. bubbles? A tank of some kind, maybe. He couldn't tilt his head far enough back to be certain.

He growled defiantly and sneered as best he could at the unseen owner of that mocking laughter.

"'Allo, mon Ami," it continued, a smooth French accent comparable to his own flitting between the words, "It would appear zhey have left you in one piece. ..for now."

The Spy remained quiet for a short while, thinking rapidly. Should he ask questions? Should he ignore the voice? ..was this all a drug-induced hallucination? The pinching from the straps forced him to realize otherwise.

"Who are you," he demanded neutrally.

"All in good time, mon Ami."

"Where is zhis place?"

There was only silence and the gently hum and bubbling sound from the tank. The Spy gritted his molars and settled for staring at the ceiling.

"Any guesses?" Oh good grief, the voice was toying with him..

"I was in zhe Blu base only moments ago. I have no idea," he said grudgingly.

"Very good! Zuch a clever Spy.." the voice said, it sounded pleased and.. greater-than-thou, the Spy thought.

He listened to it, catching a pleased hum and a sigh. This situation was rapidly moving from scary to just downright weird. He lay there, fumbling subtly with his restraints just in case the owner of the voice was watching. After thirty minutes of utter silence it piped up again, "Would you like to escape?"

The Red Spy paused in his attempts. He thought he felt one of the straps budging loose, but the sudden question struck him with thought.

As if able to read his mind, the voice added, "I have a plan.."

Far above on the surface, the battle was finally winding down. It was late afternoon and while the two teams were still taking occasional potshots, the customary collecting of the corpses was taking place.

Like dueling scorpions, the teams carefully approached the bodies of their fallen, staring down any Blus or Reds that happened to be doing the same. Both sides wanted the bodies for their own reasons. For Red it was for closure -- both for their troop tally and for the mens' families.

For Blu it was for closure.. _and_ for the Medics.

The Red Sniper remained in his roost until long after the last of the Reds backed away from the field. It had become apparent toward midday that both teams were nearly evenly matched. A fallback had occurred on both sides and now? ..now it was quiet. The Sniper surveyed the world below, eyeing the gore and dark brown stains drying in the late summer sun before slowly crawling backwards and ignoring the developed ache in his bones as he searched for a way down from the windmill.

His eventual method was to get back to nature -- literally. A tree, albeit a very short tree, was growing up against the old mill. It had taken some real nads to jump down at one of the thicker branches, all of the wind leaving his chest as the Sniper grappled for it with his arms and one leg before just hanging there like a breathless koala. Being strapped with gear and falling from a height never did seem to work out well..

On the brighter side of things, it did not kill him and so he was able to wheeze his way back inside the Red base.


	21. Act 21: ThatPartOfTheStoryWhereAGuyBaws

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

"M.I.A?"

"Missing in action, son," said a Soldier gruffly as he looked over the list of dead Red members attached to the clipboard in his bandaged hand.

The Sniper bristled with mild irritation, "I know what it means, mate. But 'ow could he be missing in action? We got all the bodies, roight?"

"I don't know what to tell you, son. Maybe he defected, maybe he got blown to smithereens, but I'll tell you right now we've counted and recounted all the stiffs and your little Spy friend isn't among them."

The Aussie felt frustration, he felt anger though he knew better than to direct it against the Soldier in front of him. There was nothing he could do -- he knew there was nothing he could do. Knowing is what frustrated him the most, it pushed hope's face right into the dirt.

Gradually he allowed his aggressively stiffened shoulders to relax, a lengthy sigh leaving him as he nodded and moved away from the Soldier, "Thank you.."

He'd already found the Engineer (thankfully in one piece though a bit knocked around) and returned the goggles, his bare eyes rimmed with red irritation. The dust of battle dirtied his face and clothing too, leaving him looking even more roughed up than usual as he strode in silence toward his room.

Once there, he sat down on the bed and rested his elbows on his knees in order to lean forward. Hands folded, they propped up his stubbled chin and allowed him to stare down at the wooden floorboards beneath his feet.

-He's dead, mate. Just let him go..- he thought to himself.

It should have been easy, accepting the death of a man in war -- Everything in the professional part of the Sniper told him so.

He should have been grateful for being allowed to survive, grateful that he'd taken out so many enemy troops and protected so many of his team members without a terrible amount of injury on his person. But as his grey eyes lifted from the floor to his desk, he saw it sitting there, saw it resting unassumingly next to yellowed postcards and a lovingly-knit brown & red scarf from his mother. The mug.

#1 Sniper..

His eyes narrowed with a feeling far from his professional side, a feeling he had not encountered since the last time he phoned home: bitter sadness. The feeling that he had not done good enough. The feeling that he was letting someone down..

Despite the dirt-laden sweat remaining on his face, he felt a new batch of moisture trickling down the side of his jaw.

This one was a tear.

But tears weren't the only thing falling tonight. Rain had started up. It came first as dry thunder and heat lightning, springy rains drifting down over the bloodied buildings before coming down more steadily and beginning to wash away the mess of today's fight. It was strange.. almost as if nature had known what had transpired and wished to wash the hands of all those in participation.

It gathered in puddles and dripped off the rifles of Blu Snipers (those that remained) and the helmets of Red Soldiers.

Far below the summer shower in what was assumed to be the belly of the Blu base, the Red Spy conversed with his faceless roommate and continued trying to free himself..

"You do not have to say it, mon Ami. I can already see zhat zhis place makes you uneasy.." The voice fell silent suddenly as if something disturbed it, "Lay still, soon we shall not be alone," it cautioned.

The Red Spy could hear water splashing quietly and then nothing more from behind him. Presently he heard something else, booted footsteps on metallic steps before that too fell silent.

His eyes took over, a deep frown carved on his face as he observed a man in a white coat stepping into the room as he adjusted his rubber gloves. It was a Medic.. sort of. He held no Medigun and, likewise, no fluid tanks on his back. 5 o'clock shadow surrounded his pleasantly smiling mouth though the look of hunger in his brown eyes chased away any warming effect it might have had.

"Ah.. comrade, I see you are awake, da?" he was Russian, it only took a few words to determine it as the Medic came to a halt at his bedside. He rudely placed a large hand on the Spy's chest, the other cradling his face as he chortled and took a look at the Spy's masked features, "Ah.. You are a man of some distinction, aren't you? Don't worry, I proh-mise dat won't last."

Irritably, the Spy turned his face away, jerking himself from the Medic's hold without reply.

He could hear the man laughing at him, feel him moving along his body with both hands. It took him a few moments to realize he was checking for damage, his limbs receiving examination, his ribs.. All he could do was lay there in enraged silence, eyes so narrow that they may as well have been closed.

"Da.. excellent, we can begin testing in deh morning. Do svidaniya, Spy, you will need your rest.."

The Red Spy could _feel_ him grinning, wolfishly running his eyes over his restrained body and licking a canine tooth in anticipation for the mutilation that he was probably planning. The Red only stared him down, hazel eyes dark with hatred until the Medic turned away and left the room.

He waited until the sound of boots retreated until he exhaled, eyes closing with anger and an inability to do anything about it.

Water. It splashed again from behind him and he opened his eyes expectantly.

"We need to leave tonight, Monsieur.."

The Red Spy scoffed, straining against the straps before laying flat once more, "And how do you propose such a zhing? I cannot move!"

"I will require your assistance if we are to escape.."

"Can. Not. Move!"

"Mon Ami~" the voice crooned.

"What!"

"Relax, I will help you. But first you must calm down and do as I tell you."

The Red Spy gritted his teeth, quickly thinking over his options before grudgingly laying still and allowing himself to.. relax no matter how hard it seemed to him.

"Zhere is a design flaw in zhe strap holding your left wrist. Do you zee it?"

He glanced down, arching his sore neck as far as he could to peer where indicated. It took a few moments, but he saw it. The strap's buckle was rusty. .. very rusty.

"Zheir efforts to inflict pain on zhe subjects result in a poor maintenance of zhe non-vital equipment. Eet is zheir downfall zhat your binds fall into zhis category."

Hope flickered in the Spy's ribs, left hand flexed before he clenched it into a fist and sharply pulled it toward himself. The metal buckle dug into the material of his suit, pinching him and causing him to grimace as he tried again.. and again!

A snapping clink followed the fourth try and the Red Spy quickly began to rotate his wrist until the strap loosened enough to set him free. He lifted his liberated hand, adjusting his wrist sorely before immediately going to work freeing his other hand. A hiss of approval came from behind him though he was too busy to look.

"Oui... _Oui! _Zhat is zhe way, mon Ami.." it said breathlessly, anxious anticipation readily apparent in the way it spoke.

The Red Spy swung his legs off the side of the bed, rubbing his wrists one at a time and finally stealing a glance off to his right in the direction of the voice which had guided him.

..he was admittedly not ready for what he saw, hands falling still in his lap as he tried to make sense of the spectacle before him. It was a tank as he had first assumed, similar to a zoo exihibit though he could see the flickering rays of an energy field separating him from the entity inside. The enclosure was half water and half open air with a metal ledge placed inside like a crude jail cot. The water, from what he could see, was murky and dirtied, but what was truly bizarre about it was the.. thing staring hopefully at him.

It was a Blu Spy.. sort of.

For all intensive purposes he looked normal, but his waist disappeared into the deep waters at a height that would far surpass a standing human man of his build. Furthermore, when the thing spoke, he could see that every last one of its teeth were sharpened to a point like the nasty biting blade of his butterfly knife.

The standoff could have continued for hours if it weren't for the damned thing speaking up.

"S'il vous plaît.. Monsieur. One Spy to another, I have upheld my end of our deal," the Blu Spy looked toward the control panel that must have controlled the electrical field before looking back at the Red Spy, "Eet is time for you to uphold yours."

The Red Spy stood, staring with a mixture of confusion and wariness at the.. man(?) in front of him.

Indeed, he had helped him to get free, but.. A Blu Spy? What was he doing here? (What WAS he?) Could he be trusted? Obviously someone didn't think so or else there wouldn't a high-voltage field humming between them..

The Blu looked increasingly desperate as the moments ticked by, his expression of composure shifting into a sad and hopeful smile, "Monsieur?"

"What is your plan?" the Red Spy managed, pocketting his case of the creeps for the time being.

The Blu bristled with desperate joy as he pivotted in the water and pointed across the room where the Red Spy looked as well, "Zhere is a drainage grate over zhere. I.. I zhink I can break it."

The Red looked at him skeptically, "Zhat is solid and heavy iron, I doubt you could--"

"Zhe pipe will take us to zhe sewers. We can escape zhis place. We can.. We can make it to zhe surface but you will need me to navigate."

It took him three more minutes of thought, but seeing as he had no other thoughts on how to escape, he found himself examining the electronics panel and de-activating it with a sharp eye on the man in the tank. When he didn't come lunging for him, he calmed slightly and went to search the lab for his equipment. It had been set aside on a counter, no doubt they hadn't expected he'd be able to get away.

Splashing caught his attention however, his fine Italian shoes scuffing the floor as he turned around and gripped the counter with both hands. "M-mon.. Mon di.. M. .." He just could not get the words out. His eyes shot wider as the Blu Spy hoisted himself out of the tank with his uh.. Really? Were those??

The Blu Spy appeared sheepish, gathering himself in a dripping puddle beside the tank and hunching his shoulders self-consciously, "Tentacles, yes. Forget zhe intel, I can tell you incredible.. Incredible amounts later."

..tentacles.

The Red Spy stared at him, utterly mortified as the Blu stumbled and crawled in the direction of their 'escape hatch'. Apparently land movement had been lost on him during his time in that cramped tank, not that the Spy was in any which way level-headed enough to think about it. He was witnessing a god damned freak of nature. A Blu.. Octospy! A Spypuss. A.. oh merde..

Those alien tentacles coiled around the thick iron bars, a slow and grating screech sounding off as metal scraped metal. The sheer strength of those writhing appendages occurred to the Red Spy though gradually he worked up his nerves and stepped nearer as the deformed Blu set the grate aside and peered back at him with a determined and surprisingly comforting look of honesty.

He held out a hand to the Red Spy who was having second thoughts about the whole escape plan as he caught sight of the sludgy water below.

"Ah.. Perhaps.."

"Zhere is no ozher way, mon Ami. ..unfortunately I have been here long enough to know."

The Red Spy looked from the dirty fluid to the waiting abomination, swallowing his anxiety and putting on a mask of duty as he grabbed the Blu's wrist and disappeared down into the sewage with him.

The underground lab grew even more hollow as a fleeting blue tendril pulled the grate shut behind them.

(Yea, Tentaspy. Come on, you knew you wanted him to show up eventually.)


	22. Act 22: Alligators In The Sewers

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

The Red Medic had helpers tonight.

Still mildly dumbfounded by their presence, he shook his head as he watched an Engineer patching up a fellow teammate's lost arm like it was one of his own Sentries. A Pyro held the hand of a Scout who was gritting his teeth and throwing his head back against the wall as a Soldier helped to realign his broken leg. There hadn't been much talking involved; one by one they simply came and offered their services, requiring only minimal direction and occasional guidance from the Medic as he stepped through the room of wounded troops with his slowly-draining Medigun and stabilized the prepped patients.

The black-haired Sniper was there, he noticed, currently using his careful hand to suture a large gash torn into the leg of a Demoman who was thankfully too drunk to mind the pain. Though he appeared focused on his work, the Medic could tell something was bothering him.

Well.. this wasn't the time to pull him aside and ask. He grunted to himself and continued tending the wounded Reds with the healing rays of his gun until the very last of them ran dry. Everyone was at least stable now, most of the dying taking place out on the field rather than inside the ward. Some could have used a few more charges, but the Medic simply had none left to give.

That briefing was passed through the room, resulting in a murmur of grumbles and sorrowfully accepting sighs.

Some of the volunteers stayed to chat with the wounded, some left for bed, and others still got up to return to their posts. Someone would have to guard the base during the night -- the Blus could very well launch retaliation when it was least expected.

And as the Red Sniper stood to leave, he felt a strong hand clamp onto his shoulder, "Herr Sniper."

He paused predictably, glancing back and turning around to face the Medic who had stopped him. The German man looked tired and stressed, sweat beading on his brow and several strands of hair errantly matted across his face. Nevertheless, he looked determined and answered the Sniper's curious expression with a gesture toward the far end of the room, "Step into my office. I vhould like to heff a word vith you, bitte."

The Sniper tucked a thumb under the strap of his rifle, sighing gently as he nodded and did as he was told.

Shutting the door behind him, the Aussie sank into the modestly-cushioned chair across from the Medic's office desk. It reminded him of a reception area, file cabinets and shelving littering the area against the back wall.. There was even a tacky plant in one corner of the room as though it was trying to liven up the place. Perhaps it would have worked if that plant had not been a cactus from the deserts surrounding the battlegrounds.

It wasn't long before the Medic joined him, shutting the door and pulling the glasses from his face as he rubbed his eyes and went to sit heavily behind his desk.

The two men sat in silence for a little while, taking the time to unwind before the Medic peered in his direction and placed his glasses back on his nose, "Vhell, Herr Sniper.." He turned the chair and scootched forward to fold his hands on the desktop, "I could not help but notice zhat somezhing is troubling you. Vhy don't you get it off of your chest?"

"You're a psychiatrist now?" the Aussie asked with tired humor.

"It vhas my first degree. Radder useful in all of zhe medical fields," he admitted evenly, "Bitte.. tell me vhat is on your mind."

The Sniper folded his arms loosely and shuffled a shoe across the floor as he stretched his leg, "Mm.."

The Medic judged the look on the man's face, watching him stare thoughtfully at the floor before lifting his gaze to view him properly. There was understandable hesitation; he knew the Snipers were a loner class and likely close guards of their feelings as a result. But he could see the trust forming in the man's expression and so simply sat there with an open mind as the Aussie began to speak.

"I lost a friend t'noight, Doc. ..a good one," the Medic tilted his head down subtly, encouraging the man to continue with his calm blue eyes.

"And.. I dunno," he lifted a hand to rub his chin, shaking his head, "I feel.. I feel like it's my fault or something." His eyes had wandered around the room a bit, but they soon returned to the Medic with a hopeful glint. Could the physician help him handle these worries? ..the grief?

"Vhell, surely vhe are both avhare dat it is not, Herr Sniper. You do your job commendably." The Sniper frowned sadly.

Unfolding his hands, the Medic rapped an index finger against the desktop before leaning back in his chair, "But _dat_ is not vhat you think, hm?"

"No.."

"Mein Freund," the Medic said, his voice gentle and entirely different from the manic man the Sniper was used to seeing, "Vhe vhill always lose somevhone dat vhe care about in dis place.. Do not ever zhink dat you are any less of a man because of dat."

The Sniper tilted his head, beginning to look a little bit convinced but still in need of some pushing.

"He vhould be extremely proud of you, Herr Sniper. Do not dwell on his death. Radder.. do well by him. Avenge him in battle."

"Proud.."

"Ja. _Absolutely,_ yes. Und he vhould only be happier to see you move on from dis tragedy vhis your head held _high_."

The Sniper smiled with mixed feelings. Yes.. the Spy would rather that he place duty before friendship, wouldn't he? When he lay dying in his bed, he'd even told him that much. The silly Red, he thought, always so worried about pride and valor over the things that really mattered.

After a short while, the Sniper lifted his head and nodded a bit, "Yeh.. I suppose 'e would, mate."

"Now.. vhat do you say..?" the Medic asked, a truly benevolent smile on his face.

"Thank you, Herr Doctor.." there wasn't even a hint of sarcasm tonight.

The Red Spy pouted. He registered he was pouting, of course, choosing to simply sneer instead. His suit was.. oh he didn't even want to think about how ruined it was becoming as he and the Blu team beast trudged through waist-deep ..waste in the sewer tunnels beneath the battlefield.

In order to keep from going insane, he decided to start talking or, more specifically, asking questions.

"So.."

"So?"

"How long have you been in zhat place?

"Oh, let me zee.." the multi-limbed Spy appeared to be counting on his human fingers as they continued down the pitch-black tunnel, not that the Red Spy could see. He currently had a tentacle wrapped around the man's waist to keep track of him as the human stumbled blindly along. The tentacled Spy did not have this trouble, his slippery appendages allowed him to slosh easily through the watery sludge and navigate the way ahead, "A little over half a year, I zhink? Or do you mean zhe base entirely?"

"What, you weren't born in zhat lab?"

"Non.." came the disheartened reply.

Silence fell between them. Not born there? Ugh! Well.. That could only mean one thing, really -- the man beside him must have actually been a _man_ at some point. Someone on the Blu team!

..so they really did experiment on their own.

The Red Spy tried to keep himself from vomiting at the putrid scents rising from the water though in all honesty it would be cleaner than what he was currently mucking through. The Blu Spy must have heard him gagging however, for he soon spoke up again, "Are you all right, mon Ami?"

"Splendid," he spat back.

The Blu Spy only smiled worriedly as he felt the other man stop and then heard him wretch. His hand found the Red's back, patting reassuringly as the tentacle kept him from doubling over too far into the sewage below. "Can you ztill walk?"

"Ummgh.. Yes, just give me a moment," came the belated reply.

Soon they were walking again, a term used loosely where the Blu was concerned. The Red Spy found himself resting an arm around the tentacle which held him, finding securing in the fact that it tethered him to someone who knew his way around the labyrinth of metal and concrete and.. ew.

Every now and then light would pass above them. Tiny grates, shafts, things they couldn't reach or, if they could, couldn't fit through. Some areas were higher, some were lower, all required the use of the Blu's tentacles to navigate and pull them to the next series of pipes. Eventually they fell into a rhythm, sticking together and becoming desensitized to the smells and sounds of the sewer as they focused on escape.

No one would bother following them here, the Red Spy thought. Who would willingly do such a thing unless their only alternative was horrific mutilation or death? He found himself occupied by these thoughts as another patch of light appeared ahead. This time the Tentaspy -- he'd finally decided on a catchy name for it -- emitted a hiss of delight and pushed forward with one last burst of energy.

It was a shaft, twice the Red Spy's height and covered with a steel grate. Both men looked up at it, taking in the sight of the moon from down in their festering escape tunnel. It was time to plan..

"Can you reach zhat?" the Red Spy asked, peering from the sky to the Blu who was nibbling his lower lip thoughtfully with those horrible teeth.

"I can lift you up first. Zee if it is secured, non? If not.. Perhaps we can push it," he nodded to himself, looking at the Red Spy curiously to see if he liked the idea.

The Red Spy looked a bit unhappy about the prospect of being swung around by a tentacle, but he eventually sighed and regained his usual look of resolve, "Alright, push me up zhen. I am ready."

The Blu nodded, tentacle uncoiling from the Red's waist and refastening itself around his ankles. He slowly lifted the man up, waiting for his gloved hand to steady him against the wall of the shaft before he pushed him even higher. The Red Spy hummed as he ascended, wary eyes darting around the edge of the grate as it drew nearer. Would there be a Blu sentry parked right next to his head once he got to the top? Was this grate bolted or rusted in place to the degree of being unopenable?

His heart hammered his ribs for the third time today as he reached the grate and glanced around rapidly. .. huh. He could see the Red base from here. It was some ways in the distance but arguably much closer than that of the Blus. A man-made channel, likely meant to drain water, was running straight over the grate though it only dripped with a meager helping of rainwater.

His spying was interrupted by a voice from below, "Do you zee anything?"

The Red looked down to see the Blu Tentaspy looking up at him hopefully, "It would be safe to exit here, oui. Let me zee about zhis grate.."

His gloved palms rest against the bottom of it, the tentacle pushing a bit higher in anticipation of his shove to the cold metal. Straining, he gritted his teeth and felt his arms shake against the weight of the thing. Come on.. come on.

_Ssshheeek!_

Metal scraped metal successfully and the tentacle pushed him even higher. The combined strength of the Tentaspy and the Red working together eventually pushed the grate off to one side of the opening. The Red Spy grinned like a jackal, panting from his exertion and looking down at his multi-limbed comrade, "It's off! I zhink I can get out now."

The Blu Spy hummed and leaned back onto his hand in the tunnel as he pushed his tentacle as high as it would go.

Unfortunately, this meant thrusting the Red Spy up out of the shaft. Without it to stabilize his hands, he cried out, flailed, and whacked face-down in the dirt. He groaned, feeling the tentacle slip away from his ankles as he started getting to his hands and knees.

"Mon Ami?" came the Blu's voice from down below, "Is everyzhing OK?"

"Jhust seet tight and I'll find a way to pull your slimey self out of zhat pipe," came the exasperated reply.


	23. Act 23: Slinky Spy, Stinky Spy

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

It was nighttime again.

Even though there were no windows for him to look outside, he could almost feel the air turning chilly and lonely out there.

But wasn't alone in here; he could hear a Scout in the shower stall beside his own quietly cursing an injury and bitching about the bar soap which was standard on the base. He must have dropped it about ten times now, not that the Sniper was really keeping track as he lathered his hair and stood under the falling water of his showerhead.

Dirt and sweat rolled off his body, trickling down his legs before it swirled down the drain beneath him. He could tell he wasn't the first man to have done so today, a thin layer of silt at the bottom of the stall evidence of such. Still.. a shared shower was better than none and he wasted no time in scrubbing himself clean and taking special care of his facial wound.

Though sore, it had begun to thicken and seal, healing in the ugly way that nature intended.

Unsurprisingly, he finished up before the Scout and stepped out with a towel tucked around his waist as he made use of a hairdryer and comb at one of the sink Scout, he noted, was taking an ungodly amount of time in there and just as he was about to check if the boy was still alive, he came out wincing and limping his way over to the sinks.

Catching the Sniper's look, he sneered at him, "Hey fuck off, pal. Ain't you ever seen a dude shirtless before? Fuckin' fag.."

The Sniper just smiled in an unimpressed fashion and turned to head into a dressing stall. Stalls galore in this room. They hadn't always had them, mind you. The Scouts had merely suggested that it was 'faggy' for everyone to be 'walking around with their pieces parts hanging out' and, after an incident with a Heavy, the rest of the team was inclined to agree.

The Aussie smirked as he pulled the door shut. He'd seen men with their shirts off, certainly, but it was more rare to see a shirtless Scout who had cut himself trying to shave his own chest. He had enough dignity not to laugh as he got dressed. It was the Scout he'd spoken with in the mess hall before the battle and who, he noticed, had a broken leg in the infirmary. The boy wasn't going to start being a saint anytime soon, but with every time they crossed paths, the Red Sniper could swear he saw some of that sharp edge wearing down.

It happened again tonight as he placed his hat on his head and walked for the door.

"Yo, wait up!"

"Can't do, mate. Oy've got an important fag meeting to get to," the Aussie said sarcastically as he peered back at the hastily-dressed boy who had hurried to follow him.

"Oh hah hah. Drop dead."

"I tried todai, doesn't seem to be working very well. What can I do for you?" The Sniper pushed the door open and held it for the Scout who seemed to be fiddling nervously with his hat.

"Um, like.."

The Sniper followed him out into the hall, closing the door gently behind him.

"You know how you were all, 'G'day mate, are you ready to go kick some ass!' last night?" The imitation of his accent was laughable, but somehow the Sniper held his composure with a curt nod. "Yea, well.. Uh.. Thanks for that. Got me all pumped n' stuff. I think it made me do better on the field or somethin'."

The Sniper raised his brows and hooked a thumb in his belt loop with an impressed look on his face, "Hell really 'as frozen over, 'asn't it?" The Scout frowned at him, but he only chuckled and tipped his hat to the boy, "Well.. You're welcome, Scout. Always remember that your teammates are more than your roommates -- we're out 'ere to watch your back too."

He stepped around the boy then, on his way to the hangar as the Scout rubbed the back of his neck and tried to decide if he'd just fucked up or not.

..he decided not.

Tonight the Engineer went outside the hangar door with the Red Sniper, leaving not one, but _three _Sentries to guard it along with an insomniac of a Demoman who had been milling around swapping stories with the mechanic.

As the two men walked, the Sniper didn't speak much. The Engineer didn't press him. He knew something was on the sharpshooter's mind since he'd requested they go and sit on the ledge overlooking the only natural pond near the battlefield.

It was a small, uninteresting little spit of sand and water shrouded by dying trees and an equally parched river feeding into it. ..but it was relaxing enough as the two men sat down on on the rusted out sheet of metal that served as a bench roughly ten feet off the ground below.

The Engineer set down the cooler he'd been carrying and popped the cap of a beer bottle which he then thrust into the Sniper's hands.

Though he was confused by the gesture at first, the Sniper hiked a leg and leaned back against the outer wall of the Red base with a sigh and took a welcoming sip of the brew, "Thanks, mate."

Opening one for himself, the Engineer settled down and nodded gently to the man, "T'wern't nothin', Sniper. You best just relax and take a load off."

So that's what they did.

Both of them sat there, admiring the dirty peeling paint on the building across from them, the murky banks of the pond, and the eventual chorus of insects in the bushes below. It was the first time they'd done this in a while -- usually reserving it for times of great stress and activity. They would come, they would sit, and they would think.

Talking rarely happened; neither man really knew the other enough to say anything of comfort, but nevertheless the sheer presence of their respective comrade seemed to soothe all worries.

But as they relaxed in their half-lit nook by the water, something stirred down below. The Sniper glanced to the Engineer and then back toward the bushes which had rustled unnaturally. He set down his beer bottle and slowly drew his Kukri..

The mechanic furrowed his brow, taking another sip of booze and waiting to see what would happen as the Sniper crept to the edge of the ledge and stared ahead. .. heh. He saw the wavering outline of a cloaked Spy, launching himself down from the roof with a triumphant yell and knocking the man to the dirt.

"_**WAUGH!**_" the Spy cried out, winded as the Sniper pinned him and thrust his blade up against his rapidly uncloaking throat.

The two of them stared at each other for a good thirty seconds before two things were realized. A.) they were both Red and B.) They knew one another.

"..Spoy."

"Monsieur Sniper..?"

"Hoo boy.." the Engineer commented, his hard hat now tipped up so that he could view them both properly.

In a moment of elated unprofessionalism, the Sniper grinned and dropped his Kukri in favor of yanking the Spy up by his shoulders and hugging him! It was a moment of beauty, utter trust, and love!

.. until a horrid stench met his nose.

He dropped the Spy back to the ground like a bag of hot coals and scrambled backward to get away from him with a forearm across his nose, "**UGH!** Aw!_ Ew! _Good _**gravy, **_cor! Wot in the name of the Queen _is__** that**_.. G'aw!" He batted at his clothing as if that would shoo the smell away from them.

The Red Spy gathered himself up into a sitting position, frowning in annoyance at the repelled Sniper as he stole a glance up at the Engineer and then back, "It isn't zhat _bad_.."

"Easy for _you_ t'say, mate. ..ugh!" he was finished brushing himself off now, "Wot did you do, hide in the enemy toilets??"

"Woooo-ee, boy!" called the Engineer mas he choked back his gag reflex, "We all thought you were dead! What'cha doin' sneakin' around these parts?" The man enthusiastically chugged the remainder of his beer and wiped his mouth on his arm with an amused grin. Meanwhile the Spy got to his feet, comically brushing himself off though he remained filthy through and through..

"One cannot afford to prance about blatantly, Monsieur. I was merely protecting myself on my way back."

"Gawd, you'd think the stench would do well enough.." said the Sniper as he stood and collected his knife. The Spy simply sneered at him in a 'ha ha, that's so funny of you' fashion.

In time the Sniper was able to get back his usual composure though not even Gordon Freeman's crowbar could pry the happy smile from his face, "Li'le wanka.. I thought you'd gone and gotten yourself killed. Wot happened?" The Engineer leaned forward curiously and also awaited the explanation.

The Red Spy opened his mouth to speak, but soon found himself shutting it. ..how exactly was he going to word this?


	24. Act 24: The Turncoat

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

After hearing that the Spy had infiltrated the base and hidden until dark when he could escape, the Sniper and Engineer decided it was high time they all headed back inside.

Parting ways with the mechanic, the Sniper decided to follow the Spy. He had to stop at his room anyway for a fresh change of clothing anyhow.

-Bloody 'ell,- he thought to himself, - Roight after a shower too. You'd almost think he planned it..-

He glanced at the man beside him who had already taken off his jacket and walked with it over his arm as he trudged in the direction of the barracks. Hm.. If he'd hidden until dark, why did he hide in the sewers? Couldn't he have disguised as the enemy? Hidden beneath a staircase? ..why wait until dark, come to think of it.

Questions rapidly began coming to the Sniper's mind and it wasn't long before he reached over and prodded the Spy in the back to start asking them aloud, "Hey."

The Spy glanced at him, "Oui, Monsieur?"

"You were in their base, yeh?"

"Zhat I was."

"Captured any intel, then?"

"I-- .. Classified information, Monsieur."

"Doesn't look like you're carrying any."

".."

"You were in there for quite a while, mate, was it that heavily guarded?"

"Yes, very much so. I was lucky to escape with my life," the Sniper noticed the man's gaze shifting around, never entirely meeting his. He played it cool.

"Aw'right. I guess I can't blame you for failing.." the Spy bristled. "Why the sewers then?"

"Zhey were most convenient."

"Hm.. Really? I'd have thought you'd never damage that million-dollar suit."

"Desperate times, Monsieur Sniper," the Spy countered smoothly as he arrived at his door.

"Uncharacteristic measures?"

The Red Spy tensed when the Sniper placed a hand over his card reader. He sighed through his nose and looked at the man tiredly, "_Yes_. Now let me be, I am very tired." But he didn't let him be. In fact he became more intimidating, leaning closer to the reeking Spy and staring him right in the eyes until he was forced to shut them and avert his gaze when he opened them again. That gaze was unexpectedly powerful. It reminded him of the times he'd seen it in the past -- the times he and the Sniper had bantered in his room, the times before a rough scar had framed them..

"Come back here in half an hour.." the Spy murmured quietly, "..alone."

The Sniper returned to his room, taking his sweet time changing into an exact replica of the clothes he'd been wearing. As he buckled his belt and zipped his fly, he began to think. Come back in half an hour? Huh.. Well, he knew for sure the Spy would be showering -- no matter what supposed circumstances had faced the Frenchman today, he knew the man's neurotic sense of hygiene would eventually conquer him.

Something must have happened in the Blu base. He had sounded honest about getting inside, but something must have happened once he got there. Something.. humiliating? It would give the Spy a good reason to tell white lies. The bit about the sewer_ had _to be true; there was simply no other way for him to come around smelling like that unless the enemy Snipers had perfected a new form of Jarate..

He decided he'd just wait and see as he leisurely buttoned his shirt and shrugged on his vest. The Red Sniper only had one hat though luckily it remained stink-free as he fitted it properly on his head and stepped back into the hall. The Spy was nowhere in sight, though it didn't surprise him in the least when the man phased into view with smoke trailing off of his freshly-pressed suit.

It also trailed from his mouth, a savored cigarette clenched between his pursed lips.

He took a few moments to look the Aussie over before deciding it was time to get moving. Not a word passed between them as they snuck out one of the unmanned maintenance doors and into the night.

"You can talk to me, you know," the Sniper reminded as he adjusted his quiver and walked along the rusty wall of an old shed. "I think it's been proven to a ridiculous degree that Oy'm not about t' go tellin' your secrets all over the base."

"Pipe down, bushman, zhis is not a matter of my hang-ups.."

"No?"

"I'm simply unsure of how describe what you are about to see."

The Aussie wrinkled his nose, pausing for a moment to shake his head before continuing on, "Mate, Oy've been in the business a long time. What is it, a rotten corpse? A puppy? Give me a hint here, would you?"

They both spoke in hushed tones, moving with care side by side and watching each others back as they crept through the darkness, "Non.. Listen, Monsieur Sniper."

"All ears."

"I was.. aided in my escape."

"Ahh, so it's a turncoat then."

"..in a manner of speaking. Wait here a moment."

The Sniper sighed, watching the Spy vanish from view and heeding his request grudgingly. What could possibly be so urgent that they needed to handle things in the dead of night? And if it was a Blu team member who had aided in the Spy's escape, why did they have to come all the way out this far just to find him? He crouched behind a bush, watching and waiting for the return of his masked companion.

"Pss pss!"

The Blu Spy stirred down in the depths of the sewer. Something was making noise at the rim of the grate above him and slowly.. very carefully.. he crawled back toward the patch of moonlight that penetrated the murky waters he sat in.

It was the Red Spy!

His tentacles squirmed with renewed hope, a sharp-toothed smile nearly splitting his face in half as he sat upright, "Mon Ami? You've come back for me!"

"Shh!"

The Blu quieted down. He'd momentarily forgotten the echoing property of the tunnels around him, "Ah.. What is your plan?"

"I saw you stand on zhose appendages before -- how high can you push yourself?"

The Tentaspy looked down at himself and rubbed at his chin with one of his filthy gloved hands. He didn't much care at this point, the months of being kept in a tank having made him quite used to being in a sorry state, "Well, let me zee.."

The Red Spy watched carefully from the rim of the opening, looking around the field occasionally to be sure no one was going to sneak up on him and put a knife in his spine. Splashing from below caught his attention again and he saw the Blu Spy attempting to stand upon fully erect tentacles. The grimace on the hybrid's face told the Red two things: The Blu could not do so for long and he would need help to pull the man free.

Clucking his tongue, the Red Spy nodded, "Alright, relax and get back down, I will go and fetch some help."

The Tentaspy flinched as his tentacles buckled beneath him and sent him to the floor of the tunnel with a horrid splorch. He cringed at the feel of sewage splashing his face, spitting pathetically and wiping his mouth on his moistened sleeve as he sighed and flexed his tired limbs. One more push.. that's all it would require to get out of here, he thought.

He waited a bit less than patiently before he heard sounds above him. They were voices albeit hushed -- two of them.

"So just grab his arms when he gets to zhe top and pull as hard as you can."

"Aw'roight, mate, but I promise I can lift 'im on my own unless 'e's a Heavy. It's only one man, roight?"

"..oui. One man."

The Red Spy's head and shoulders reappeared over the grate, darkly silhouetted against the moon behind him, "Alright.. Up with you, zhen, we are ready."

The Sniper rubbed his hands together nonchalantly, spitting on them for good measure since the Spy had insisted he would really need help freeing the Blu traitor from what he now observed was a drainage pipe. No doubt the Spy needed help. He was a noodle with a spine so far as he could determine!

And so he sighed and grabbed a hold of the first arm that emerged, the Red Spy doing the same as both pulled hard and.. holy crap this guy was heavy!

"Grrrn.. Oy!" the Sniper strained, leveraging his shoes against the dirt and tugging backward with all of his strength. Clearly he had underestimated the weight of this Blu. Maybe it was a Heavy weapons man after all? But no.. he clearly saw the man's balaclava glinting in the moonlight as his torso cleared the hole.

From there he simply shut his eyes and concentrated on pulling until the man came free with a wet pop and sent all three of them tumbling to the dirt. A horrid smell, same as the one the Red Spy had toted earlier, filled the air and the Aussie inwardly mourned the tarnish of yet another uniform. He was about to sit up and gripe about it, but as his eyes focused on the dark form they had worked so hard to lift, his jaw simply fell open and stayed there.

..

"Fss..ck. .. k," he choked out, jaw snapping shut like a bear trap as the Red Spy sat up on the other side of the rescued man, "..Oooh my _god_."

"One man," the Red Spy assured, lifting an index finger tiredly as he simpered at the mortified Aussie, "Eight legs."

Everything in the Sniper told him to leap to his feet and start hacking at the abomination with his Kukri, but as it 'sat' up and looked at him, he found he could do nothing but stare. He turned his wide eyes on the Red Spy instead, murmuring stupidly.

"Zhere is a body of water nearby, jhentlemen, let us get moving," directed the Spy as he got to his feet and dusted himself off. The Sniper gradually let his nerves strengthen, inching back from the many-limbed creature and slowly moving to stand as though any fast movements might rile it.

Throughout it all, the creature said nothing though it did look at the Red Spy and then go about pushing the grate back into place with those horrific tendrils it wielded in place of human legs.

The entire way to the pond, the Sniper insisted on walking behind the.. thing.

He marveled at the way it stumbled across the land, slowly growing more accustomed to land-based locomotion as it adopted a style of movement similar to a centipede that allowed it to seemingly glide forward. The odd troupe continued in this way, moving with surprising stealth until they arrived at the shore of the pathetic little pond. The curiosity in the Blu uniform waited on the bank, looking questioningly at the Red Spy and then at the Sniper. It coiled its tentacles around itself in a way that reminded the Sniper of a person nervously fidgeting their hands.

After a few moments, the Red Spy went to talk with it, gesturing at the pond and exchanging a few reassurances in French. The hulking creature nodded with resolve and turned to crawl into the pond water. The Sniper watched it go with a semi-disgusted sneer, willing to stare for a long time until he was interrupted.

"He is like you, you know," the Red Spy said as he drew his arms to a fold and eyed the Sniper.

The Aussie narrowed his eyes, the utter mindfuck he was experiencing not allowing him to comprehend those words properly, "I really.. _really_ fail to see how."

"He does not want to be a part of his team any longer. He wishes to.. switch."

This time the Sniper looked up sharply, naked eyes focused on the Spy with a look of shock.

"You forget, Monsieur.. I am a Spy," here he unfolded his arms and held his hands up in an innocent shrug, "I know all zhat eez to be known about zhe Red team. And I know.." his arms relaxed, a hand lifted to adjust his cigarette, "Zhat you were not always on our side."

The Sniper clenched and unclenched his fists, turning more directly toward the Frenchman who puffed a bit of smoke over his lower lip and tilted his head.

"So what're you gonna do about it, mate?"

"About you? Nothing.. Your matter has already been.. how you say? Dealt with. Eet is a closed case and thus out of my hands."

"..well. .. Well what's that??" he pointed at the steadily calming surface of the pond.

"Zhat eez a Blu Spy."

"Oy can see that, mate, what the hell else is it?"

"I need to compile a report and zort out my findings," said the Red Spy. He removed his cigarette and tapped off some ash as he cleared his throat and placed it back on his tongue. The Sniper received a calm look, "If you can forgive my formalities, Monsieur, I may tell you what I have learned later.. It is quite possible I will require assistance in taking care of zhis.. new addition to zhe Red cause."

The Sniper, who'd been wiping his hands clean the whole way there, dragged one down the side of his face and sighed gruffly.. He nodded, "..Aw'right, Spoy. ..Aw'right." He shrugged and dropped his arms to his sides.

Getting back inside the base was no issue for the duo. But sleeping? ..sleeping was something of a challenge.


	25. Act 25: War Dad

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

It was still raining in the morning when everyone woke up, a soft and misty sort of rain that barely added to the puddles that had formed overnight.

Red team perched at the forefront of its base, everyone antsy and unsure of what was to come during the day. Would Blu bolster its defenses? Would they launch a revenge attack? An eerie quiet sat outside, birds and wildlife seeming hushed this morning as though the day prior had scared it all away..

Their Spies woke early like clockwork and slowly gathered together as they always did in the briefing room.

The Sniper's friend? He arrived last as he rubbed drowsiness from his eyes and caressed the sore patch on his neck. That damn needle.. It'd gone in crookedly due to his struggle in the Blu base though he wouldn't dare go to the Medic about it. As he sank wordlessly into a chair facing the large blackboard at the back of the room, he sighed and ignored the other men who were standing around chatting. It seemed too early to smoke, only one or two of the Spies doing so at the moment.

An unexpected pair of forearms draped themselves over his shoulders, a lit cigarette loosely-held in one of the hands attached.

"Heheh.. Out late last night, were you not?"

He tilted his head back in order to stare into the smiling green eyes of the Spy who had approached him. "'Mmf," was as intelligent a reply as he could manage before the Spy grinned and moved to sit beside him.

The cigarette entered his mouth, "So tell me, what happened? We all had feared the worst.."

The other men seemed distracted for the moment which was fine by the Red Spy. He needed a few minutes to get his act together before initiating a briefing session. Pinching his nose in a fashion similar to that of his friend, the Red Spy smiled and tried to relax, "Get comfortable, I have much to tell everyone.."

Eyes lit with interest, the emerald-eyed Spy leaned forward, "So you made it inside?"

"I was captured before I could take anyzhing. However.." narrowing his eyes at the man's cigarette, he reached forward and simply took it for himself, "Borrowing zhis."

"By all means," his comrade answered with an amused laugh. He could tell the fellow Red was concerned about the things he was going to say. If it meant losing his cigarette to hear them then of course it was a reasonable sacrifice.

"However, I did see a lot. Zhey _are_ performing zhe experiments and zhey are doing so on zheir _own _men."

"..mon dieu."

"Oui, Monsieur. Oui.." He stood then, walking up to the board and starting to erase the intricate battle plans left there by the Soldiers from before the last battle.

The cigless Spy looked down at his lap and blinked gently before he too stood and went to gather the others. One by one they looked over to where the Red Spy was chalking things up. It was strange.. usually only the Soldiers and Engineers used the damn thing. Spies could usually just speak their minds and be understood quite elegantly. Visual aids were hardly necessary for men of such charisma.

..unless this was a situation which direly called for one.

And so it happened that all four of the other Spies stared at the Sniper's friend, watching him jot relentlessly on the board with one hand tucked behind his back and an occasional puff of smoke wafting away from his face. He also appeared to be.. drawing?

The men assumed impromptu sitting positions like students preparing for class, some on the tables, one in a chair, and another standing with a hand in his pocket while the other tugged anxiously at the knot of his tie.

The Red Spy stopped writing, peering downward before he turned halfway and examined his colleagues with the piece of chalk still in his hand. They looked from him to what he had written, seeing a few hastily-drawn diagrams, one of which reminded them of a jellyfish.. His voice interrupted their examination, drawing their attentions right back to him as he turned away from the board and took to pacing.

"Jhentlemen, I fear zhat I must bring you some bad news.." He pointed at the board with his chalk, "Zhe enemy is attempting to change zhe way we wage war. Zhe chemicals? Yes.. we know of zhem. I fell victim to zheir newest sedative last evening as I was about to discover yet anozher of zheir _filthy_ secrets."

The man paused to blow some smoke up at the ceiling, shaking his chalk at the assembled Spies, "Zhey are experimenting in genetics, Messieurs.. Zhey are turning men into monsters within zheir secret labs."

Silence swept the room as the Red Spy grew quiet.

Soon they were all looking at the board again as the Spy approached it and began to explain his diagrams. The building layout, the inter-connected sewers, the few things he had managed to read of the papers he'd wanted to take, and finally.. the jellyfish diagram.

It wasn't a jellyfish as the men soon learned. It was one of the monsters he had spoken of who, in addition to assisting in his escape, also wished for asylum under the Red banner. The Red Spy was met with angered resistance and suspicion though he made quite sure to talk over everyone until he had utter control again.

"_Jhentlemen_," he said with a powerful sneer. They reluctantly fell back in their complaints.

"He has.. information. What eez more, he has not made any attempts to apprehend me or infiltrate zhis base. As it happens, I know exactly where he is staying and where he shall continue to stay should we decide to appease his request."

"Monsieur Spy, what makes you think he is not simply using you?"

"I do not _zhink_, Monsieur, I _know _he is not," he waved his chalk around dismissively before setting it down, "Much as our Sniper defected, I do believe zhe torments of zhe Blus have disgusted even zhis _monstrosity_ of which I speak. And.. if your insecurities are not yet satisfied, zhen say zhe word and I shall bring you all to him for questioning."

The Spies looked at each other, mulling over the idea in utter silence before the green-eyed Spy crushed his cigarette in a nearby ashtray and nodded slowly, "Well.. Zhen allow me to say zhe word, Monsieur."

Laying in his bed, the Red Sniper stared up at his ceiling.

He'd already looked at his watch. 10:30 in the morning and he still felt tired. Was he really tired or was it laziness? He decided to laze there and think about it for another thirty minutes before emerging from his room and heading for the mess hall with his white mug clutched against his chest.

Not thirteen minutes later and he was sitting at a table by himself drinking the most satisfying coffee in the entire world.

"Batta _**SWING!"**_

The Sniper almost choked on his coffee as he ducked his head down to avoid a baseball that went sailing overhead, "Oh b-bloody.. _SCOUT!"_

Thwok!

Someone hit it back across the room to where the blonde Scout who'd hit it initially was waiting with his bat. The Sniper looked behind him, finding the brunette Scout that usually accompanied him standing there with a big stupid grin on his face.

"Ten points if you hit the Sniper!" the blonde chirped as his expression turned devious and he hit the ball close to but not directly at the Aussie.

The man put a hand to his hat and grumbled some very dirty things into his coffee as the ball whizzed by. The blonde? He'd just been talking to the little piker yesterday! Hadn't he learned? Several taunting passes of the ball later and he simply reached up and plucked it right out of the air.

It hit his palm hard, leaving a sting in it that would surely bruise. Ah.. but he hardly cared. He had the damn whizzing object in his hold and he was not about to simply give it back.

"Hey-hey!" the brunette called, looking impressed, "Nice fuckin' catch, dude. C'mon, toss it here."

"Oy don't think so, mate," He lowered his catching hand to his lap and leaned back in his chair as he continued to sip his coffee.

"Oh come on, fuck you," the blonde said as he came trotting over, "Give it back, we were just messin', man."

"You kiss your mum with that mouth?"

"Hey, dun talk about my ma'!"

The brunette walked over too, his bat up on one shoulder, "Great job, dude, you pissed off Captain Kangaroo."

"Wasn't my fault, man. Fuck off."

"No, _you_ fuck off!"

"Why don't you boys have some breakfast?" he idly smelled his coffee, adding, "Come to think of it Oy don't think I''ve _ever _seen a Scout eat anything."

"Give us back our ball."

"Have breakfast first."

"You are fucking joking.."

The Sniper just smiled pointedly at the boys, unmoving.

"God damnit, you think you're my fucking dad or something?"

"Fucking unbelievable, dude."

"Friggen sucks on ice, man.."

The two grudgingly moved toward the kitchen. They'd been so eager to get up and at 'em, they'd honestly forgotten the very important idea of actually eating something. It happened a lot which is why the Scouts could often be found in the mess hall after midnight eating the dinner they'd forgotten about during the evening. It was also why many of them were so scrawny..

Chuckling, the Sniper continued sipping his coffee and set the ball down beside his mug as he thumbed through a magazine.


	26. Act 26: Liberty At A Price

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

The four Red Spies waited with varying forms of anticipation along the banks of the Red side pond. Some smoked -- all of them smoked, actually -- some leaned, some stood, and one even crouched warily as he stared at the darker areas toward the middle of the waterway.

The Sniper's friend went right up to the water, careful not to soil his shoes in it as he pulled his cigarette from his mouth and emitted a sharp whistle.

At first nothing happened.

He whistled again, adding a few twitters for emphasis on the off chance that he wasn't heard the first time. The other Spies weren't very sure what to make of this bird-calling technique, but the Blu Spy certainly did.. They'd discussed it last evening -- I whistle, you come; I clap my hands, you hide.

A disturbance made itself visible in the water just fifteen feet from the shore and fast approaching as the head and shoulders of what should have been an enemy Spy broke the surface and fixed a pair of haunted blue eyes on the men gathered nearby.

The two sides watched one another, rigid with characteristic suspicion as the Red Spy daringly turned his back on the water-dwelling Blu and addressed his colleagues. "Jhentlemen? Do not be afraid. I assure he is willing to answer all of your questions." Some looked doubtfully at him, others looked curiously at the man behind him.

In the end, no one came any nearer which was fine as the Red turned so that he could view both parties at once.

The Blu tucked his head down a bit, frowning unhappily and attempting to bolster his confidence in order to answer questions like a professional. It had been a while since the last time he'd been an effective Spy. He could only hope he still had some of his old initiative..

And so it began.

"What are you?" the green-eyed Spy asked. His face was a firm mask of interrogation, unmoving save for the occasional smoke that escaped his lips.

"Human," the Blu started, collecting himself a bit higher in the water and clearing his throat as he continued, "And octopus.."

"Why?" asked another Red.

The Blu's mouth became a line which threatened to dip down into a frown though he was able to hold it flat until he found his next words, "I am zhe unfortunate product of a Blu experiment, razher, a series of zhem." The Reds exchanged fleeting glances and stared at him. Their attention slowly rekindled his old ego, forcing his voice to become stronger and allowing him the esteem to lift and gesture with his hands, "What zhey had first hoped to do was create a soldier capable of rejheneration -- an ability to retrieve his lost limbs should he lose them in combat. But zhey wanted more as well.. A natural cloaking ability, one wizhout charge."

"And?"

"..And it did not work zhe way zhey had hoped for."

The Red considered his words before going on, "Are you zhe only one?"

"Non.. Zhe only one like myself, however, yes. Zheir ozher attempts failed in an.. _unsalvageable_ manner.." The Sniper's friend sneered with disgust. Irretrievable? That could only mean their previous victims had died in the labs. It was appalling news! "Zhey have been working to 'perfect' my new body for zhe past few months since I have not died. Eet is my belief zhat if zhey had succeeded, I would not be zhe only hybrid before you."

"Why one of zheir own?" the green-eyed Red asked. Surely it would make more sense to capture one of the enemy men..

The Blu Spy gathered his hands into his lap which rested just below the calmly rippling surface of the pond, "I was.. a traitor to zhem at zhe time." Their looks of interest prodded him to explain with greater detail as he sighed and lifted a hand to gesture broadly toward the Red Spy standing closest to him, "He is not zhe first man I have helped to escape from zhat place. Messieurs.. And he would not have been zhe last if my will to endure zhe torture had been stronger."

The Sniper's friend furrowed his brow gently at these words. Not the first? There was a very short list of people who had switched sides and lived to tell the tale. He immediately knew who else the Tentaspy was referring to..

In the hour after that, the men in Red did not budge an inch from their defensive body language. The Blu didn't think much of it. Spies always hid their true feelings until they'd had time to discuss them behind closed doors. They wanted to be unpredictable, efficient, error-free.. And so long as none of them lunged at him with the intent to kill, he dealt with it admirably until the very last of them had left the area.

Hugging his arms about himself, the Blu sighed and sank back down into the pond as his lungs gave way to his gills.

He tried to sleep after that, but roughly half an hour later something kept glinting and sending light right into his eyes. Growling out of annoyance, he opened them and glowered up at the shore where it was coming from. ..ugh. It was a piece of metal, a knife maybe? Someone was poking it into the water, feeling around as if looking for something..

It wasn't the Red Spy -- they already had a calling system. So this? This must have been someone else. ..possibly a Blu team member out fishing for Tentaspies. His eyes narrowed dangerously, tentacles splaying as he crawled slowly toward the annoying little bit of light..

On the surface, the Red Sniper grumbled to himself as he slashed the water again with his Kukri. God damned Blu.. it probably scarpered during the night. He'd been hoping to question it himself, fully prepared to take it down if he had to though it looked increasingly like the damn thing simply wasn't there.

That is, at least, until a tentacle shot out of the water and grabbed him by the neck.

He barely had time to drop his Kukri and lay both hands on the slippery limb before it jerked him sharply into the pond and sent a froth of bubbles in every direction as a result. His hat hit the sand, rolling a bit before falling to one side. The Sniper held his breath and flailed, trying to land a sharp kick to the nearest bit of flesh he could find though the darkness and debris of the pond prevented any meaningful attacks. More tentacles joined in the fray, lashing themselves around his legs and holding them firmly as the one around his neck tightened and he began to choke.

I'm going to drown, he thought, I can't breathe and if I don't get out of here, I'm going to drown!

The world flipped upside-down and when he finally came to his senses, he found he had broken the surface of the water and that a tentacle wrapped around his waist had replaced the one around his neck.

Coughing horsely, he spewed up a throatful of water and groped for something to stabilize himself against. What he found was the soaking wet sleeve of the Tentaspy who, after noting the bright color of the man's uniform, immediately brought him up for air. The Aussie, still sputtering and breathing raggedly, stared down his foe who held him so dangerously near to his sneering face.

They remained just like that for about fifteen seconds, the duration of which felt like eternity until the Sniper laid a hand on his throat and glared at the placid Blu in front of him. The attack was over and, as the Aussie observed more carefully, he found that the Spy was not sneering but rather inspecting him. Trying to.. read him. Remember him?

Neither of them had been able to get a clear shot of the other last evening, but with the sun creeping higher with every minute that they sat there, their faces were clearly visible.

The tentacle around his waist tightened to the point that it was almost painful, a choking sound coming from the Tentaspy who looked as though he'd seen a ghost, "_You."_

_"Me,"_ the Sniper replied warily. His voice was uncharacteristically rough from the recent crushing of his windpipe.

A smile twitched onto the Blu's face, eyes narrowed with a mixture of joy and sorrow, "Monsieur Sniper.. Don't you remember?"

Now the Aussie really had to think. Remember? Oh good grief. He had to remember something while being throttled by a sea monster? He tried, in any case, sighing subtly and allowing his grey eyes to dance over that masked face. Nose, mouth, eyes.. ..eyes. His gaze returned to them, seeming to see past the sharp teeth and inhuman features that accompanied them.

He'd seen those eyes before.

Now it was his turn to look haunted, brow furrowed as he searched for the right words, "You're dead.."

"Almost," the Blu whispered.

"Mate, I saw you. That rocket--"

The Spy laid a dripping index finger on the Sniper's lips, shaking his head, "I lost my legs, mon Ami. And.. perhaps my mind." The Sniper blinked with disbelief, not even bothering to wipe the pond scum from his mouth as the Spy's hand left it. It was his first friend in battle, the very man who had risked his live to save him from the unspeakable cruelties of the Blu team.

Their initial plan played in his head like an old black and white film.

'Zhey've seen us, go, **GO**!'

They were running together, dodging bullets as shouting rang out behind them. It was nighttime, they were running side by side and soon they would be welcomed by a Red Engineer who had been plotting with them for weeks. Plotting to help them defect..

That's when the Soldiers came after them, rockets destroying their path as they ran toward salvation.

The Spy had stumbled, falling to his hands and knees as the whine of a warhead penetrated the night air. The Aussie couldn't leave him, starting back only to be repelled by the fire and shrapnel which exploded out from the location of his comrade..

His heart had broken that night, tears and blood staining his wincing face as he limped inside the Red hangar and fell to his knees.

And as the horrific memories faded away in his mind, he found himself staring at the Blu in front of him, deformities forgotten as he simply hugged him and pressed his forehead to his own.


	27. Act 27: No Rest For The Replacements

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

As he sat drying on the shoreline, the Red Sniper peered out over the water and occasionally back toward the Blu half of the battlefield.

Their little pond was off in a corner of the fighting, right up against the Red base though it took a bit of navigation to get past the scrap the lined the corridor leading to it. Still.. a well-placed Blu Sniper might be able to penetrate the distance with a well-tuned scope. Accuracy couldn't be guaranteed of course, but it was worth keeping attentive even with the Blu Spy lounging halfway out of the pond beside him.

"So," the Aussie started after a while.

The Spy perked up, glancing over from his luxurious bed in the sand where he'd folded his arms under his head. With his back to the sun above them, he reminded the sharpshooter of a lazing cat. ..a catfish, in this case, "Hm?"

"What'd they do to you, mate? I don't remember you bein' _this_ ugly."

The Spy could only smile at the Aussie's humor. He'd known him rather well when they had still been able to fight together..

Those were the days.. some of his best and still some of his worst. Fighting blindly with the idea in his head that Blu was _right_ and Red was wrong. That Red was evil and Blu was pure..

It was before either of them knew what was really going on. They'd gradually become aware of other men trying to sneak away during battle to flee to the other side. Cowards.. that's what they had first assumed.

But as their curiosities began to creep higher in intensity, the Spy had gone digging..

The truth he discovered is what had lead them to band together that night and try to run just as many men had done before them.. They'd do a better job of it, they'd said. They'd make the one plan that would work, take all the right steps.. They'd be the ones to do it right. Just him and Sniper, partners and friends..

"Zhey tried to create a Spy who could survive a Kukri to zhe arms and legs, mon Ami."

The Aussie grunted, leaning forward as he draped his forearms over his damp kneecaps, "Yeh? And how'd that work out?"

"..suitably."

The Red took it to mean that yes, regeneration had been achieved and that yes, it had been learned the hard way. For the Blu Spy at least.. "Was it brutal?"

"Oh, zhey did zheir best.."

The Aussie looked at him, his eyes seeming to be asking him to elaborate.

"Ztarvation.. blood tests.. Pointless physical traumas, usually. Zhose of stamina, endurance. One would zhink mobility to be among them but.. no, they preferred to cram all of zheese.." his extra limbs briefly tapped the surface of the pond, "_Silly_ tentacles into a enclosure far too small for zhem. _Hmph_.." For a guy with flippers, he still seemed to retain some sense of self-dignity that the Sniper had to admire.

"What about now, mate? Is anything, well.. unfinished?"

The Blu hummed and lowered his head back onto his forearms as he stretched his tendrils out and then relaxed once more. It felt so good to be in open waters..

"Non.. I zhink eet is all in order. ..as much as it can be."

Indeed, Tentaspies simply did not exist outside of the case that laid beside the Red Sniper. What normalities of nature could they base him on?

"Did the suits come already?"

"Hm.. Ztill no respect for my class, I see?" the smile was in the Spy's voice.

"Oh the respect is there, mate. It's there.. Just not as polished when they aren't here to soak it up is all."

"Zhey came and asked all zhat was necessary.."

"Really.. Did they figure out wot t' do about feeding you?"

".."

After a few more seconds of silence, the Aussie glanced over to find the Spy rolled onto his side and rubbing his chin one-handedly, "Zhey didn't ask about zhat.. But I have ideas, Monsieur Sniper!"

"Ideas.."

"Ah, _oui_," his blue-eyed gaze wandered to the water hopefully, "I have noticed zhere are fish in zhis place, you know? Perhaps.. well, I very much doubt any of zhe team uses zhem for recreation?"

"Absolutely not; you think we could stop killing each other long enough to find the time? Hell.. You catch it, it's yours," the Sniper waved his hand dismissively, "And if you're good, I'll even bring you some people food. How's that?"

"Ahh Monsieur.. You are_ too _kind. People food, zhe idea!" The Blu Spy cradled his chin and smirked in an amused fashion.

The Red Sniper stayed a little while longer, eventually rising to his feet and heading back to the base with a renewed feeling of purpose brewing in his stomach as he went to see a Demoman about getting more ammunition for his rifle.

He'd all but exhausted it in that last big push against the Blus, a fresh stock of it sure to have arrived by now along with the new Medics they'd called for after so many had been lost in the weeks prior..

New recruits were always something of interest to the Reds. HQ seemed to hold off until the last possible second, sending them all as one batch to avoid overuse of supplies and make the best of a single trip there and back. It made sense in a way.. The new recruits would get off, and the irreparably wounded, dead, and otherwise out of commission men would board in their stead.

The Medics were especially hoped for and, as the Sniper soon learned upon entering the docking bay, due to arrive within the hour.

He wasted no time in pulling aside the Demo responsible for overseeing the handling of new supplies, soon inundated with so much new ammunition that he needed a carrier bag to get it all back to his room.

Demos and Pyros seemed exceptionally good at the whole business of stocking and operating heavy machinery. No one really liked that the Demos did it drunk half the time, but they had only had two major incidents that the Sniper could recall and that? _That_ was pretty good.

He stood in his room, hunched over the heavy wooden chest that served as his ammunition crate as he rearranged the boxed bullets and arrows that had come in. Huh.. Some of the arrows would need tweaking. They always did! Flimsy, anti-aerodynamic,_ useless _things that desperately needed a true archer's touch..

But they could wait until later.

For now, the Sniper simply worried about fitting them all inside in a way that they would remain safe and secure as he gently shut the lid and flicked the padlock shut. He stood up straight to crack his back. Mm.. Age. Catching up with him, was it? He couldn't run and jump around like the Scouts anymore but he'd be damned if he simply let himself fall apart with time. Not him!

His next stop was beside his bed where one of the only other metal objects in the room resided -- a pull-up bar bolted securely into the wall. Rubbing his hands together, he clapped them with finality and removed his quiver and vest as he loosened his arms and then stepped up to the bar for some well-earned exercise. Oddly enough, he treated it like a reward. Having fallen into the routine years ago, it was like evening tea or a good book. A nice, repetitive activity that, in addition to being pleasant, also did a fine service for his body and spirit.

It must have been an hour later when he finally stopped.

Pull-ups, hangs, crunches. He did the whole bit though he wasn't about to start lifting weights. That could be left to Heavies and Scouts who falsely assumed they had the body mass for it. Not the Sniper. He was happy to keep his compact, limber frame exactly the way it was. Not too strong, not a weakling. Just what he needed to do his job..

The work-out predictably left him a bit overheated and as he cleared his quiver from the bed, he didn't even bother putting his vest back on. He simply flopped over it and unfastened the first few buttons of his uniform shirt with one hand while the other mopped sweat from his scarred brow.

It was going to be a nice cool-down session until suddenly someone knocked on his door.

"Door's open, mate," he called over. It was almost always unlocked during the day save for the times he left his room. A matter of ego or a matter of trust? No one could say for sure.

"G'day, mate." Huh! It was the blonde Sniper, a tip of his hat offered as he jerked his thumb back toward the hall and smiled at his reclining comrade, "Train's comin' in. Thought you might be interested."

The black-haired Aussie smiled and pushed himself into a seated position, "S'pose that depends. Is it bringin' sheilas this time?"

They both laughed. Women were unheard of on the battlefield so far as they knew. HQ always gave them cushy office jobs or, at best, recruitment jobs back in safer territories. Some might have called it sexism, but HQ maintained it was just a better use of the strengths of each gender.

Ah, but as it happened, he _was_ interested. His vest was unnecessary, he determined, and so he left the room idly carrying his Kukri around on his shoulder much like the Scouts did with their bats. It was rather liberating to go around with so little of his usual gear and as such he arrived quickly at the unloading station where a good number of men were already gathered.

The Soldiers, he saw, were already hard at work whipping the greenhorns into shape and corralling them into groups by class.

Standing near one of the doors with a satisfied smile on his face, the brunette elbowed his dark-haired companion, "See the Medics, would yeh? How long do you suppose they'll last before they turn brutal like ours?"

The Red Sniper only smiled and folded his arms, "They might very well be born that way, mate. Look, we've got new Engineers."

"Sheesh.. that one doesn't look a year past puberty."

"Dare you to say that to his face, he'll put a wrench through you, I wager."

"Hahah -- probably!"

Their people-watching session ended as soon as the newbies were all off and being shown to their rooms -- told where their rooms were, actually. No one was about to drop and walk everyone to where they needed to be, much to the dismay of some of the younger men. No doubt they felt awkward and watched by the eyes of the men who had been there longer though eventually the only ones left in the bay were Medics helping to stabilize the wounded on the train to head back.

Soon even the Medics were gone, an Engineer or two prepping the train before it slid away from the base.

The black-haired Sniper, after separating from his lighter-haired companion, found a Medic walking around near the mess hall who looked absolutely lost.

It wasn't the normal type of lost where you stopped and asked for directions, it was more the 'I'm lost, but I refuse to admit it so I'll just walk around and stop occasionally to read signs that say simple things like 'Mess Hall' and 'Briefing Room' like they're full paragraphs' type.

Stepping up behind him, the Sniper tucked his thumb into his belt loop and glanced first at the mess hall sign and then the back of the Medic who was taking a long time reading it. "It's in English," he offered after about thirty seconds.

The Medic spun around in a startled fashion, looking flustered at the smiling Aussie behind him. Heh! He was a young one as far as Medics went. Barely a wrinkle blemished his crew-cut forehead though the Sniper knew that would change once months of stress began to set in.. And as the man nervously adjusted his glasses over his wandering mint-toned eyes, the Sniper decided to give it a head start.

"Well? Go on then, they'll be needing you in the infirmary for briefing, mate."

The man fidgeted and then stood straighter as he adjusted the strap of his Medigun tanks, "Of course, sir. Which way, if you would be so kind?"

The Aussie nearly laughed. Nearly. This Medic was British from what he could tell, "Sir? I'm hardly your C.O., mate."

He could see the man twitch with a hint of embarrassment. Surely a rookie like him wanted to make the very best first impressions. Any failures would be taken as personal blows until he could grow the same thick skin the rest of the team seemed to tote.

But the Sniper felt benevolent at the moment, smirking at the shaken man and grabbing him by the arm as he began to guide him up the hall, "Roight this way, doctor."

"Oh, um.. Well, alright then.. Yes. OK," the greenhorn sputtered, not quite sure what to make of being pulled around though he resigned himself to silence as the infirmary came into view and he was released. He turned to thank the Aussie, but the Sniper simply saluted him with a tip of his hat and walked off before he could stammer more than a quaint, "Thank you very m-..much."

He adjusted his tie, his gloves.. Huh.. Alone again.

Looking toward the illuminated 'Infirmary' sign, he swallowed, gathered up his confidence, and stepped right into the room to begin his slow acceptance into the team's medical force.

A mixture of good and bad feelings swirled through the Red base today. Relative victory in battle.. the gaining of friendships, the loss of human life.. They mingled with damaged beauty and spread their arms wide in an attempt to bring the Reds closer together.

The Blus had inadvertently succeeded in changing the war -- but not as they had hoped.


	28. Act 28: Batter Up

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

The rest of the week moved as expected with minimal to no incidents though no one could shake the cold feeling of revenge emanating from the Blu base across from them..

Fall had begun to mingle with the warm summer air and, of course, the Scouts were the first to complain.

"Fuuuuucking cold."

"Fuck fuckfuckfuck!"

It was the usual blonde and brunette pair, standing guard duty outside the hangar and rubbing their arms every time the wind blew. They wore T-shirts, stood in the shade, and barely had any body fat to warm them -- what did they expect?

"Fuck, dude. When did it become winter??"

"It's Fall, dumbass."

"What?"

"There's four seasons, ya fuckin' moron. .. christ."

The wind blew, they both rubbed their arms and sulked.

And just as they were about to consider standing next to each other for warmth like a pack of gerbils, a Soldier came blasting through the hangar door behind them. "MAGGOTS!" he yelled. Instantly the boys turned and stood at attention. "Your shift is OVER, boys. Let's move, go go go!" They noted the presence of a Pyro shuffling up behind the man, no doubt he and the Soldier would be taking their place.

The Scouts looked absolutely delighted!

"Fuck yea, man! I'm totally goin' for a hot shower," the brunette said energetically.

"Oh hold on, dude," the blonde grabbed him by the shirt, "No, wait. Let's go play catch. That'll warm us up, right? 'sides.. I wanna practice my curve ball."

It wasn't long before they were both loping away from the hangar, leaving the grumbling Soldier behind. No matter how the Soldiers of the Red team tried, it seemed no one could tame those baseball boys. The Pyro muttered something of reassurance as he pushed the hangar door shut and hefted his flamethrower properly.

Meanwhile, as they ran through the alleys and obstacles along the side of the Red base, the brunette decided to get things started, "Hey fuckoff, catch this!" He skidded to a halt and chucked a baseball overhead. The blonde tipped up his hat and grinned as he leapt up onto a creaking wooden ledge and began to run the length of it powerfully. The ball was falling fast ahead of him, but he didn't worry in the least.

Jumping between the end of the ledge and an uneven pile of tires, he whipped off his hat and used it as a mitt to catch the zooming projectile. The brunette's cry of anguish was heard far behind him, "Fucking bullshit!" The blonde simply stopped and looked back waving and taunting.

"Yeah, chucklenuts! How's that feel? C'mon, get your ass down here, I see a field we can use."

And off they went like two streaks of red under the autumn sun. It would be disorienting for anyone to watch them -- two boys playing baseball in the middle of a war zone like it was their own neighborhood. And perhaps, given the hinted pasts of each boy, it _was_ their neighborhood in a roundabout way.

The Sniper had been making use of the downtime by performing his usual routines. Morning coffee, exercise, weapons maintenance, coffee and perhaps a bit of food, going for a brief walk around base, visiting the Red Spy and badgering him for updates, grabbing a cup of coffee, and occasionally heading out to the pond with his lunch bag prepared for use by another.

Today it was time for him to head to the pond and as he walked through the crisp early afternoon air, he couldn't help but smile to himself.

Blu hadn't gotten replacements yet. It was a feeling he got which only bolstered his confidence to walk semi un-armed from the base to the body of water where surely his faithful friend would be waiting.

And indeed he was.

After discussing the Red Spy's calling system, it became rather easy to summon the octospy from the depths of the pond and over to the shoreline once he ascertained that an enemy hadn't accidentally bumbled by the water whistling.

"Monsieur Sniper! Well, well.. You look razher chipper today. Did zhey deliver a new cache of coffee beans to zhe base today?" asked the Tentaspy as he pushed himself up onto the sand.

The Sniper chuckled, walking over to the aquatic Spy fearlessly and setting his things down before sitting behind them. Any concerns regarding the Blu's tentacles and teeth had long since been abandoned after the man's repeated failures to use them for evil.

"Heheh.. Might 'ave, but Oy'm just happy to be alive, personally."

"Ahh I see.." the Spy said thoughtfully, "So you jhust woke up and decided you'd be happy today?"

"That's the long n' short've it, mate," the Sniper insisted as he took a sip from his travel mug (the white one was special and he didn't yet wish to endanger it out in the field) and began to point at the bag he'd brought, "Mm. Oh, right. Have a look in there, mate. Brought you some things." As the Spy obliged, he adjusted the sunglasses which had recently arrived on-base. They were identical to his old ones save for the damage and he was mighty glad for them as the sun shone on tauntingly despite the chill in the air.

"Ooh! What eez zhis?" the Spy cooed as he sat up and pulled a covered bowl of soup from the bag. It was still warm in his freezing cold hands and he held it near his body, desperate for the heat which failed to penetrate the waters he lived in.

"Chicken, I think. But who knows if that's_ really _what they make it with, roight?" the Aussie asked jokingly. He observed the Spy's reaction to the things he had brought for him, a look of utter appreciation pasted on the former prisoner's face. Hm.. The Sniper didn't have to guess that the Blus hadn't fed him this well for a long.._ long _time.

Setting everything down in a neat little arrangement, the Blu shuddered and went to look for the spoon that surely accompanied the soup. He sure hoped he'd remember how to use such utensils..

The shudder was not lost on the attentive Red Sniper of course. He took a drag of his coffee and gestured toward the man with his mug, "Cold, are you?"

Pausing, the Blu looked to him and blinked shyly. "I.. a bit. But it's fine; I'm sure I can adapt."

"Adapt over 'ere," the Sniper offered, patting the sand beside himself. He didn't think much of it. Body heat was something he had and something that would be lost to the elements if the Blu Spy wasn't going to take advantage of it. His survivor-man way of thinking didn't let him think about the social aspects of it -- at least not for the moment.

The Blu seemed to jump readily at the offer, using his arms to push himself sideways until his damp suit pressed firmly against the Sniper's side. The Aussie just smiled and nursed his coffee as he looked out over the water.

"Better?" he asked after a few moments.

"Oui.. Merci, Monsieur Sniper."

The sharpshooter could swear he heard nervousness in the Spy's voice, but he only continued to relax there and let the Tentaspy get his uniform wet. ..again. The Blu went to work on his soup, sighing as the flavors hit his tongue and finding himself leaning more utterly against the man beside him. He didn't even realize one of his tentacles had coiled around the Aussie's lower leg until the man brought it to his attention.

"So.. really cold, I take it?"

"Muh?" he looked down and jerked the tendril away with a surprised gasp, "Oh! Je suis _désolé_, Monsieur. I hadn't.. _uh_.. realized."

The Sniper rolled his eyes and elbowed the man in the ribs which prompted him to shut up long enough to 'oof' and then rub at the afflicted area. He received a pointed look from the Australian, "Look mate, if they got a mind of their own, they just do. Oy'm the last person on this team who'd yell at yeh for it."

"...merci," said the Spy after a moment, sounding small but gradually regaining his position of comfort against the Sniper's side. The tentacle eventually came back too, but this time.. on purpose.

They stayed like that for a while after the Spy had finished eating and the Sniper had finished his coffee. And they might have stayed there a good while longer if it weren't for something small and white flying overhead and landing with a sploosh in the pond in front of them.

The Blu jolted and looked back, defensively flinging an arm behind the Sniper and snarling up at the sounds of footsteps approaching at a running pace, "I got it, I got it! I.. oh_ fuck_, it went in the water. Nice one!"

Looking back as well, the Sniper lifted a brow in time to see a Scout come skidding to a halt at the top of a short hill framing the pond. They locked eyes for a moment until the Scout became utterly focused on the.. thing beside him. The interaction only took a matter of moments and after seeing that limb wrapped up around the man's leg as well as the way the creature had its arms around the marksman, the Scout decided it was go time.

"Oh my god!"

"Mate, relax, it's--"

"Get the** fuck **off our Sniper you _Blu_ fuckin' _**BASTID!**__"_ the blonde shouted as he charged forward wielding his bat..

What happened next was almost too quick for the Aussie's brain to register.

Tentacles whipped out of the water, creating an impromptu barrier between the pair and the upset Scout who deftly avoided them and hoisted his bat with the intent of bringing it down over the Blu's skull. He nearly made it too until a tentacle wrapped thickly around his ankles and jerked him backward, another seizing and yanking the bat away before whipping the boy in two circles and slamming him against the chilled surface of the pond.

The Blu lifted him sputtering, dripping, and upside-down from the water before dropping him rudely in the sand roughly fifteen feet away. And the Sniper? He just stared wide-eyed and long-faced at the poor Scout, blinking as the Blu's tentacles retracted and hovered at either side of him defensively. The Tentaspy, he noticed, had shifted into a tilted 'standing' position with all of his limbs free from the water and dripping around him like an eerie rain shower.

Seconds passed as the Scout shifted to his hands and knees, coughing and furiously wiping pond slime from his face as he glared in the direction of the stunned Red and the wary Blu, "Sniper, dude, you better have a fuckin' amazing explanation." The Blu Spy sneered toothily at him.

The Sniper inhaled and.. exhaled, expression easily portraying his confusion as he glanced over his shoulder and simply said, "Relax," to his tentacled companion. Obliging him grudgingly, the Spy withdrew his limbs to the sand and settled for glaring over the Aussie's shoulder. "Scout, c'mere."

"Fuck no."

"It's all right, Scout, he's not here to hurt anybody," the Scout hardly looked convinced.

"The fuck is that thing, dude, what the** fuck's **goin' on??"

"Hey man, did you get the ball ba--.. oh _shit_."

The trio looked up to see a mortified brunette Scout at the top of the hill with his jaw open as far as it would go. The Sniper dropped his face into his palm and quickly shifted to his feet to remedy the situation, "Get down here, boy." The brunette looked about to run, "I said get _down_ here before I have to put a _bullet_ in your blinkin' _kneecap_.." The growl in the Sniper's voice forced a meek response from the boy who warily descended the hill to stand behind and eventually help his blonde companion to stand. The boys stared from the Sniper to the.. whatever that was behind him, too stunned to be their usual annoying selves.

"Alright.." the Sniper began as he rubbed his chin. "Boys, this is a defected Blu Spy."

"Defective, you mean," one of the Scouts shot off. He received an even glare from both the Sniper and the curiosity sitting nearby, shutting his mouth and frowning instead.

"_Defected_. He's on our side which means no batting, no shooting, no punching, kicking, or being a nuisance."

"Dude when the fuckin' Spies hear about this.."

"Zhey already know," the Blu interjected.

"Holy fuck, it talks!"

That sharp-toothed sneer returned, "Zhat_** it **_does, and surprisingly better zhan you, _boy_."

"Snipes, man, c'mon, what the hell?" the blonde said, pointing rudely at the Tentaspy with an expression that begged for answers. He also began to shiver, realizing his sopping wet state with a pathetic frown.

"You think this war's all rainbows and sunshine, mate?" the Sniper asked coldly.

The blonde did like rainbows, but that wasn't really the question, was it, "Uh.. n-no?"

"Blus are over there doin' _terrible_ things to their wounded. Is it any wonder they want to switch sides?"

"..oh," the brunette said with some realization. The blonde share it, albeit a bit more slowly. So that.. tentafreak was a Blu lab animal gone wrong? It still didn't make complete sense, but it was enough to put a look of mild horror on the faces of both Scouts.

After some more information was passed between the four of them, the Scouts agreed to keep it a secret from the others on the condition that they could come and visit the odd creature from time to time. After getting past the whole 'Oh my god, it will kill us all' sentiment, the boys reacted like any teenagers who had just unearthed something really cool.

Not thirty minutes later and they were asking things like: 'Can I touch one of the tentacles' 'What do you eat' 'Could you sink a ship if you really felt like it' 'Would you mind throwing me into the lake again, only higher this time because it was really fuckin' sweet like a high-dive' and, perhaps silliest of them all, 'Can I have your autograph'.

Two autographed baseballs later and the Blu Spy laughed mirthfully as the Scouts ran back to base to get washed and warmed up.

The Sniper watched them go, rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully. Could he trust the boys to keep their word? He could certainly trust them not to attack their newest object of fascination who seemed to soak up the positive attention like a sponge. In the middle of thinking about what the other Spies were doing, he felt a tentacle rubbing soothingly at his back.

His eyes soon found themselves drawn down toward the Blu Spy who was watching him with a pleasant smile, "You started slipping into a standing coma, mon Ami. Everything all right?"

Grinning gently, the Aussie nodded and reclaimed his seat in the sand, "Oy.. Yes, Oy suppose it is. Was just thinking about the future, is all."

"All in good time.."


	29. Act 29: Shut Your Mouths

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

"I bet he can crush a paint can with those fuckin' things."

The blonde Scout was scrubbing himself clean in a shower stall, talking over the rushing water to his brown-haired buddy in the next one over.

"Fuck cans, dude, I say he can throw a _car_."

"A tractor!"

"Dude!"

"Dude!"

The blonde grinned stupidly to himself the more he thought about it, "Wonder if we got any uh those around here. Maybe we could make him do it?"

"I dunno, I guess we can look later. You think he'd do it?"

"Shit, man," the blonde shut off his water and snatched up a towel as he jettisoned from his stall and nearly slipped and cracked his head open. Scouts. They never could just take their time like everyone else.. "I sure hope so. You know how fuckin' awesome that would be?"

The brunette poked his head out, soon to follow his friend and even faster to get dressed, "Fuck yea, dude. Tentaman versus a giant tractor. Holy fuck, maybe the guys on base would pay to see that!"

Their giddy moment was interrupted by the clearing of someone's throat. It was the green-eyed Spy and he looked none too impressed as he stood there with both hands in his pockets and an unlit cigarette poking out of the corner of his mouth. The Scouts stood defensively, fixing him with annoyed stares as per usual, "The fuck do you want, Spy?"

"You know.. I find it interesting how loud you boys can become.. Do you realize just how much a shower stall amplifies the sound of your voice?"

The two boys looked at each other, the blonde was nervous but still frowning..

Unintentionally, by way of an Engineer and a Demoman having come through the washrooms, their little secret had suddenly become publically rumored knowledge. The Spy stood between them and escape, informing them of the fact with an utterly grim expression on his sharp face.

..shit.

Everyone was looking at him funny.

The Red Sniper, having returned from his outing at the pond, waited until he was alone in a hall before lifting his arm to sniff at it. Did he smell like fish or something? Not especially.. but why else would everyone suddenly be staring at him like they knew something?

He rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, worry creasing his brow as he headed back toward his room to unload his supplies and gear up in his usual get-up of vest, quiver, and rifle. In fact, he was so distracted by the odd looks that he opened his door right into the Red Spy's face on his way back out.

"Hmnugh! Ahh!" the Frenchman wailed, a hand up at his nose in the blink of an eye as he winced and bent forward slightly.

"Chroist! I am.. wow. I am so sorry, are you ok, mate?"

"Ugh.." the Red Spy, the one who had previously been bedridden, nodded and sniffed a good number of times until it became clear that his nose wasn't in fact broken. On the plus side it always had pointed downward -- no harm done!

Still apologetic, the Sniper grimaced at him and attempted to keep his distance even as the man recovered and straightened out his suit, "So uh.. News, then?"

"Zhe proverbial cat eez out of zhe bag."

"..which cat?"

"Zhe catfish."

"Oh.. son of a!" he clenched a fist and almost threw it into his doorway before catching himself and grudgingly lowering his arm, "..who was it? _Who_ did it?"

The Spy simpered and shook his head, "No one is really sure at zhe moment, Monsieur Sniper. Eet has spread as rumors which, despite our best efforts, are being taken as fact or, at best, curious myth."

Watching him sigh and knead at his temple, the Red Spy pulled the door open a bit wider and gestured up the hall with a hand, "Please.. come with me. Eet has been decided zhat a briefing will be given in zhe mess hall. No doubt zhe men will all wish to know and.. I suppose eet is only fair zhat the entire team decides what is to be done about your ah.. friend."

The Sniper's hand moved over his mouth, head shaking subtly as he stared down at the Spy's shoes. "They'll try and kill 'im," he muttered.

"You don't know zhat, Sniper."

"They won't leave him alone, Spoy, they'll be fah' too curious and it'll get him _killed_," he looked at the Frenchman now, concern apparent in both his voice and face for once..

Shifting his jaw, the Spy stepped up and took a firm stand on the situation, "To let zhem draw zheir own conclusions would only be worse, Monsieur." The Sniper looked distraught about it all, fixing the Spy with a look of pleading until he softened his tone of voice, "I will do all zhat I can.. Okay? His asylum eez almost a guarantee."

It bothered him to see the Aussie so troubled. Usually he was the problem solver. Usually he was the one coming up with bright ideas and calming people down. But with a dear friend on the line and with little he could do about it, the Spy imagined the man had every right to feel scared. That is why they left together, a supportive hand rested on the back of the man's shoulder as they headed for the mess hall in shared silence.

The sign loomed into view before they arrived. 'Very Important Briefing Today: Mess Hall.' The penmanship was terrible and the duo walked swiftly past it before they slipped inside the room.

Predictably, almost everyone who was off-duty was packed inside, those left on-duty waiting for their contacts to come and tell them the news. Everyone was antsy, some were excited, others terrified.. Some of the more religious were already murmuring about putting the critter out of its misery if it in fact did exist so close to the base.

As the chatter of whispering voices swept the room, the Sniper and Spy were able to sneak ineffectively unnoticed. The Spy subtly grabbed the Aussie's arm, squeezing it reassuringly as he left him to head for the front of the room where a few Soldiers and his colleagues were waiting.

Today was a day of visuals.

The Spies, all five of them, stood up front with varying degrees of discomfort on their faces as 80% of the Red team waited expectantly (and impatiently) for the answers to their questions. A podium had even been dragged in and a few photographs and diagrams had been tacked and drawn on a white-board off to the side of it.

There was no room to sit, no room to lean. They all stood side by side with the taller men in the back and the shortest stuck up front. In fact, the only place there _was_ room was by the Spies and even _they_ looked crammed.

"Jhentlemen," the green-eyed Spy began. His gaze swept the room, silence overtaking everyone as his voice flowed out through the microphone mounted before him. Once he deemed their attention to be on him, he continued, "Today you have been gathered to settle recent rumors moving around zhis base.. Undoubtedly you already know of zhem."

"Sea monsters!" someone piped up enthusiastically. A few coughed and murmured, someone sneezed. Someone else farted once it became quiet again though with the seating accommodations, there'd be no way of finding the culprit.

The Spy bowed his head patiently and went on, "Zhe man is a Blu Spy, experimented on by zhe Medics of Blu team and recently escaped from zheir labs. He is a person, Messieurs, and I would hope zhat you all remember zhat throughout zhis discussion.." A few groaned, some pointed and whispered derisively.

Stepping down from the podium, a shorter Spy taking his place with a grateful nod.

Ah.. The Sniper remembered him. He'd snuck up on him and nearly scared him into falling over a Teleporter. And as he adjusted his tie and fluttered his gaze over the men assembled, he regained that same look of arrogance that had trailed him the night they'd first spoken..

"Zhe first order of business is his purpose. I do believe you are under zhe impression zhat he means us harm. Indeed.. a natural fear. But he actually seeks to join forces with us -- zhat is why you have been called here, jhentlemen.. to decide--"

"Hell no!" a Soldier hollered from the side of the room. Around twenty people echoed his sentiment, striking up protests which naturally died down after the Spy glowered silently at them all.

"He can't be trusted!" a Demoman insisted.

"Squid is slippery, squid Spy -- perhaps_ twice _as worse!" a Heavy bellowed.

"Boy might sap our equipment," agreed an Engineer.

"That maggot can only _crawl_, what good is he to us?" the insults came again from the Soldier wing of the crowd.

"Messieurs.. Messieurs!" he quieted them again, "We have already interrogated him at length to decide his honesty. What is more, he is responsible for saving the lives of several of our team members.."

"It's a farce!" the Soldier insisted, "He's using his dirty Blu tactics to squirm his way right into our base and I for one am not gonna open up the doors for that slimy scumbag!"

"Aye!"

"Darn tootin'!"

"He killed our Sniper!" someone called.

"Yea!"

"Yea, he drowned one of the Snipers!"

The Spy tried to quiet everyone down with increasing anger until finally he snapped his palms down against the podium and yelled, "**SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTHS**." Were it not for his gloves, they might see his knuckles go white.

They'd never heard a Spy flip the 'F' word before. Usually it always came out in foreign languages. It generated a stunned silence for a few moments during which time the Red Sniper raised his hand and said, "Not dead, by the way. He's actually a really nice octopus for what it's worth.."

The entire room stared at him and he smiled sheepishly before the Spy up front cleared his throat and regained their attention as he gestured to the board, "Niceness aside.. Here is what else we know.."

The Sniper sighed as the briefing continued, often interrupted by protests and shouting though quelled in the same way each time -- a particularly shocking string of swearing or, at one occasion, a pistol shot to the ceiling. He felt awful inside and while he tried to keep it to himself, the attentive eye of a nearby doctor took notice of it.

It was the pastel-eyed rookie Medic from a few days ago. Though a bit nervous, he slipped past a looming Heavy and approached the lone gunman, "Pss."

Looking toward him with some curiosity, the Sniper lifted an eyebrow and began a whisper conversation with him, "What?"

"What is it like? ..the creature, I mean."

"_He's_ very docile. A man just like you n' me, mate."

"I.. Okay." The Medic fell quiet for a little bit before asking, "Does he.. require medical attention?"

The Sniper's curiosity was prickled by the question, but a bit of noise suddenly broke out around the room. Both men looked forward to see chaos ensuing. Apparently lodging was being discussed if they decided to adopt the Tentaspy (or Decaspy as it was written on the board) into their team and few were okay with the idea of letting it inside the base..

"Gentlemen, please!" this time the Sniper's friend took the stand, "You are all being pig-headed and making judgments of color over character!"

"And what would _YOO_ know about character, Spy? It saved yoo, so you're just prancin'_ aboot _singin' its praises; _**why**_ should we believe yeh?!" a Demoman accused. There were some murmurs, but a Heavy who had been standing quietly at the back of the room suddenly frowned and spoke up.

"Spy is credit to team!" he said loudly, causing many to look his way. It was the Heavy who had wrongfully been trying to get Bonk out of a Dispenser and boy was the Spy happy to see him. He continued, "Spy is helpful to teammates. Is smart man! He knows."

"Y-yeah dude.."

They attention shifted again, this time toward a blonde Scout who looked about ready to shit his pants as he prepared himself to go against the opinion of the majority of the team.

"This tenta-dude's not bad, guys. I mean.. I mean he coulda_ killed _me today. I went at him with my bat and he just.. he just pushed me away. He coulda like.. He coulda broke me in half or somethin'. Shit.. I.. I dunno. He's not bad."

His brunette friend decided to vouch as well, sounding more confident as he built off the words of his teammate, "Yea guys, the _fuck_ are you worried about anyway? He's stuck in a fuckin' pond and wouldn't even hurt a _Scout. _You_** seriously **_got your panties in a bunch over this?"

The men muttered among themselves and the Heavy in the back nodded with firm resolve as he glared his strong opinion around the room wordlessly. Those nearest to him knew better than to argue.

As the entire room thought it over, the Red Spy spoke into the microphone, "I ask you, Messieurs.. Do we make use of zhis tempting advantage, or do we throw it _a_-way? Think, my friends.. Think what it could mean to have such.. a _unique_ fighter at our disposal." He tried to play it on an angle the Soldiers might even like, eyes wide with expectation.

The Sniper tensed, the Medic fidgeted, the Scouts glared, the Heavy frowned, and the crowd.....

"Let's give zhis idea a chance!" the elder Medic announced.

"Aye!"

"Worth a shot, mates."

"Fuckin' ace, dudes!"

"It might be to our tactical advantage.."

"Mm-mmmph mph!"

Relief swept over the Tentaspy's advocates, other matters being discussed at great length before everyone would be dismissed to their duties and quarters. The Tentaspy would stay, he would fight under the Red banner, and when the weather became too cold, he would be granted temporary lodging inside.

It was decided and, over the course of the weeks to come, to be put into motion..


	30. Act 30: Om Nom Nom

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

_P.S.: On the off chance that it ends soon, there will probably be a sequel or at least several small offshoot stories following this fic. This is basically a 'meet the characters' schtick while still adhering to the plot of team unity. There's no telling what the goal will be in fics to come at this time, but hopefully they shall entertain you just as this one has._

_P.P.S.: Comments suggesting plot devices are always welcome. What would you like to see?_

---

"You know dat dey have him, da? He did not simply slink away with dis Red Spy and den flee."

The Blu Medic sneered, pacing the lab as he pulled a hand down his gaunt, hollow face. An equally empty pair of faded lavender eyes (one being glass) narrowed under his goggles which, for the moment, were pushed up to his forehead. They'd discovered the Tentaspy's escape in the morning after it had occurred and had since sent specialized Pyros down into the sewer system to gas him out should he still be inside the maze of interlocking piping.

Thus far their search had come up empty.

The Russian Medic stood nearby along with two others of varying nationalities, watching his Swiss counterpart as he stood facing the empty Tentaspy tank with a look of contempt that could crack the tempered glass it was made of. Clearly he was in charge as evidenced by his look of seniority. A patch of mauled flesh framed his fake right eye, several smaller cuts and injection marks lining his neck though more could be assumed to litter the capable body hidden beneath his lab coat..

"Dis is unacceptable, _gentlemen_."

The Blus, already unhappy with the news, watched the head doctor clench and release his fists with controlled anger as he peered back toward them. His white hair and brows, combined with the deep lines of stress upon his unimpressed face, caused the other men to stand just a little bit taller..

"Vhe must retrieve de project.. By any means."

"Und if he is unable to be captured..? Was dann?" asked a German.

"...vhe _vhill_ kepture him."

Up on the surface, fighting had been sparse until the Blus had received their reinforcements. But now, with their forces more or less back up to snuff, spats had broken out over the territory between the two bases on a near daily basis. It was where reports of a sea monster flourished and where the Medics of Blu team found themselves writhing with anger.

Their own weapon was being used against them!

As of yet, the pond remained undiscovered. The creature inhabiting it cleverly left it on occasion to cloak itself and lay in wait along the sidelines, picking off Blus as they ran by and cloaking them under its own tentacles until successfully killing them.

The rest of the Reds seemed to share the sentiment of guarding the Tentaspy. For starters, they only had one fighting for them and for another thing, he was rather capable of dominating the Blus with his near indefinite cloak. The Red Sniper had even managed to convince the Blu Spy that his new Medic friend might be able to help him figure out what abilities he had at his disposal. What was discovered was that his cloak relied not on electronics, but on his personal level of exhaustion. If he grew tired, it would falter, if he was awake, it would flourish.

The Decaspy was rarely tired in battle.

He lay in wait today beneath a stairwell, a spare medical kit laying out as bait several feet away. Anxiously, his tentacles curled and writhed around him, eyes darting around with malice as Red and Blu troops wooshed around the area intermingled with yelling and running and explosions..

Waiting was most of what he did to avoid being discovered. He still did not trust his tentacles on land and would surely be captured if not killed should someone determine where he was hiding. That is why he let the occasional Blu run past him, snatching other men to their doom whenever he saw fit or, as it happened today.. whenever he was _hungry_.

His slender tongue swathed his upper set of teeth with a fresh coat of saliva, jaw slackened with expectation as he saw a Blu Soldier come running by.

_SWAT._

The tentacle shot out like a whip, sweeping the man off his feet and sending his rocket launcher skidding across the dirt as he clamped a hand against his helmet and tried to get back up.

_**WHAM.**_

Falling like a hammer, the Spy's attacking tendril slammed into the Soldier's back and swiftly curled around his right arm and shoulder before dragging the man into its cloak of invisibility. His helmet rolled across the ground, the only testament to his ever having been there as the Tentaspy snapped his neck with a secondary limb and then brought him near to his torso..

Under normal circumstances he'd have simply discarded the body and been done with it, but lately? Lately, fish had been hard to come by..

Not wishing to disrupt the Reds with food requests, he simply took a cruder, more instinctual path and decided to do as the Blus had instructed him to while he was in captivity -- eat the remains of fallen fighters. It was fitting irony, he thought. Training him to kill and forcing him to eat the flesh of a species he once belonged to until it barely touched his sensibilities anymore only to have it put into practice on the wrong side of the battlefield later.

Did they really never think it would never fall back against them? The Blu Spy considered it as he ate.

Well.. at least he granted his meals quick deaths -- that was polite at least. What's more, it meant they'd never have to face the labs of the Blu Medics. They'd never be forced into tanks or put under the influence of drugs or coerced into performing tests until reaching their physical and mental limits. No.. surely being executed and eaten was by far a better way to go.

He didn't allow himself to be entirely distracted though -- things had to be done in between bites!

An Engineer was trying desperately to construct a Sentry, a panicked expression on his face as a Pyro came charging right for him. He could see the flames already starting to kick out from the end of the Blu's flamethrower, his wrench dropped in a desperate attempt to reach his shotgun.. fuck! It wasn't there. It had been knocked out of his hands twenty minutes ago during an entirely too personal encounter with one of the enemy Scouts that he'd just barely escaped with his life in tact.

He couldn't tell if it was the waver of the propane in the air or his imagination, but he saw a flickering haze settle above the Pyro just as he was about to be incinerated.

Nope, definitely not propane!

The nozzle of the flamethrower suddenly bent downward, crashing into the dirt and extinguishing its flame before a series of dents appeared to thrust themselves into the metal leading up toward the handle in the Pyro's hands. Confused, the Blu barely had a moment to stop before that same invisible force swept over his body and began to crush him. Gritting his teeth, the Engineer forced himself to avert his gaze and continue on the Sentry just as the man made a horrid mixture of squelching and snapping noises within his suit and fell like a sack of potatoes to the ground.

"Sentry goin' up!" he cried, running for cover just as an enemy rocket blasted the place he'd been crouching. The Sentry was knocked askew, but continued to pivot and fire at anything that moved which did not wear a Red uniform. It effectively mowed down twelve men before two rockets, a machine gun, and a handful of sticky bombs collaborated on its demise..

The Tentaspy continued with his grotesque meal, not even looking at it unless he required orientation. Organs? Eh.. maybe if they were cooked (He'd gotten lucky once during an occasion of friendly-fire between an enemy Scout and Pyro). Arm and leg meat seemed a more satisfying place to start and it smelled much better than the alternatives which is why he was quick to strip it from the dead Soldier before slinking out of his place beneath the stairs and moving across the field with a half-slithered topple involving the use of his arms and tendrils.

Every day he became more mobile. Faster, stronger, more agile. It wouldn't be long until he really stepped up his moving, but for now he did not wish to risk his cloak and so short bursts of movement were adequate as he battened down the hatches behind the rusted remains of an old tractor.

This system of kill, eat, and move continued throughout the day until he snatched one last Blu from the field to the inside of the de-railed train car he'd chosen for his final vantage point.

It was a Medic, he noted with morbid glee.

As the man struggled in the hold of at least four tentacles, he briefly let down his cloak and grinned horribly at him. The man's look of shock was not natural. It faded fast like one who was not entirely surprised by what he saw before him. And of course, he wouldn't be.. The Blu Spy recognized his face. Recognized his gruff and foreign voice as he prattled off his last dying insults and struggled feebly to escape his doom while insisting that the project had been an utter failure. This was one of the men from the labs. One of the men who had made him..

And, as the sun began to descend from the sky that late fall evening, he became the Tentaspy's _dinner_.


	31. Act 31: Wet Papers

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

_P.S.: Decided to cut that last chapter into two. Seemed too lengthy/disjointed._

---

The Red Sniper came to the pond hours later when the moon had risen, his face long and his attire beaten through and through by the events of the day's battle.

He could have gone to bed, could have showered. His evening meal was tucked under one arm too. No doubt he meant to eat it in the company of his pond-dwelling friend once assuring that he was all right.

"I am sure he is fine, Monsieur Sniper."

"Oy'm not worried," he said, glancing at the Red Spy beside him.

The skinny man had decided to come with the Sniper for two reasons, 1: It had become his assigned duty to take status reports from the Tentaspy and 2: ..he felt a nagging _moral _obligation to the half-man who'd sludged through the sewers to help save his life. He wasn't sure what was worse, having morals or having to walk through a sewer. In the end he decided morals smelled just a bit better which is why he continued to make use of them as he strolled along with the Aussie.

"Ah, I see. So you just naturally have a worried face?"

"Wot?"

"Trust me, I'm a Spy, I know zhese things."

"You're a Spoy?"

"Mmhm."

"So I should trust you? Concerning anything?"

The Frenchman laughed at the implied insult.

"Now, now, Monsieur Sniper, zhe fighting ended hours ago," he looked over with a smile, adding, "Really.. I know he is OK. Let me jhust say zhat ah.. Spies share a zort of.. _awareness_ of each other."

The Aussie watched him gesture around with his hands, sighing subtly and finally offering an accepting nod. He had hoped his concern wouldn't have been so apparent, but perhaps that really wasn't a good hope to have when in the company of someone as observant as his masked friend.

Soon they had cleared the relative obstacle course of junk leading to the pond, the pond creeping into view as they descended the hill together.

The Tentaspy, uncharacteristically, was already out of the water and sitting on a flat sheet of rock near the shore. He appeared to be.. licking something? His hand, it seemed. The Aussie chalked it up to the darkness of the area and offered a couple friendly smooching noises with his lips followed by a whistle -- the type of sounds one might expect when calling a faithful pet.

Alerted by the gesture, the Spy lifted his head, eyes glinting eerily off the moon as he stared at the two men with a look of mild alarm. Gathering his hands in his lap, his tentacles swayed slowly in the water around him, "Messieurs?"

The Red Spy hummed quietly and glanced to the Aussie who seemed to have no issue with walking right up to the Blu hybrid and standing just beside the water surrounding his rock sheet, "Howdy, mate. Came to see what's doin'. How's everything then?"

Watching the two men casually, the Red pulled out his cigarette case and went about lighting up.

"Ah, zhings are going along.." a tentacle sent a few speckles of water to the shoreline inadvertently, "..zwimmingly." He smiled at the Sniper, hunching forward to try and look less intimidating, "I assume zhis means we won today?"

"Oh we did all right.. Knocked down their communications tower though. They'll be mad as hornets, the little buggers," said the Aussie, a grin breaking his otherwise shadowed face.

The Tentaspy smiled even brighter, glancing over at the Red Spy who was lingering nearby and starting up his lighter while cupping the flame near him. He caught the Blu watching and flicked the cap shut as he took his first drag and arched a brow, "Terribly sorry, did you want..?" It was a natural assumption to make.

"Merci.. But non. I don't smoke anymore."

The Aussie looked impressed, "..wow! A Spoy that doesn't smoke, how d'ya like that?"

Indeed, the Red looked a bit stunned as he tucked his lighter away and shrugged, "If you say so, Monsieur.. Are you really sure?"

"Heh.. Oui," the Blu nodded warmly and lifted a hand to massage gently at the base of his neck as he rolled his head against his shoulder, "No doubt eet would only make my breath smell worse, non?"

The Red glanced down at his cigarette in an almost self-conscious fashion, though soon he straightened his posture and stuck his hands into his pants pockets as he practiced the art of looking sophisticated.

"Speaking of which, how's things in there?" the Sniper asked as he gestured to the pond. "Able to catch anything?"

The Blu stopped arching his neck, catching sight of the parcel under the Sniper's arm and chuckling as he lifted his eyes to his face, "Ah, oui. I've already had my supper in fact." He cleverly failed to say just what it was he had captured, but neither of the other men had the suspicion to ask. "Is zhere anything else I can do for you fine jhentlemen?"

"Actually, zhere is," said the Red Spy as he nodded and stepped forward.

The Blu Spy brushed off his lap despite there being nothing on it and sat up attentively, "But of course."

Taking this as a hint, the Sniper went to sit down on a patch of dry sand, unloading his supper which was actually something the Engineer had made for him. Once they'd been standing together on a particularly long day and, somehow, the topic of cooking had come up. As it turned out, they both loved gravy and game meats and the Engineer had even offered to teach the marksman how to prepare some of his favorite Southern dishes with them. Until that point, he said, he'd just tease him a bit with 'preview dishes' such as the one he carried with him tonight.

This time it was rabbit -- he'd shot and killed it himself, letting the Engineer do the rest. .._**damn**_ did it taste good.

The Spies were busy with other matters however, the Red one having pulled a brown paper folder from inside his suit and begun explaining the documents inside to his Blu companion. The Tentaspy couldn't help but admire the fact that they were in protective plastic. As the Red later mentioned, it was to protect them from 'pond slime'.

"It's a good precaution,' the Blu said with a serious nod, "After all, I am zimply _covered_ in it. In fact.. you may wish to ztand back, hm? It could accidentally splash you!"

The Red Spy rolled his eyes and shook his head, "Monsieur, you are as bad as zhe Sniper."

"Merci, I am working on getting worse."

The Red Spy tried hard to maintain the same level of seriousness with the Tentaspy as his colleagues, but something uncontrollable in him forced him to smile. He couldn't stop if he wanted to and when the Blu returned it with a grin, they soon found that business was a lot easier to discuss. At the end of it all, they'd swapped intel, shared factoids about the amount of dead Blus, the amount of injured and dead Reds, and whether or not Fucking, Austria was a real city. The Sniper confirmed it was.

"Well.. I suppose we should let you rest now. Surely zhey will be attacking in zhe morning."

The Aussie was standing by this point and he nodded while scratching his chin, "Sounds good, mate. I ought to hit the hay too."

The Blu Spy frowned subtly but was quick to force his expression to be more neutral, "Ah, actually? If I could have a few words with Monsieur Sniper? ..alone?"

The Red blinked a bit, shrugging as he tucked his file away, "Very well. Messieurs?" he nodded to them both before swinging around on his fine-tailored heel and walking back toward the Red base with a curious expression on his face..

"Oh. Uh," the Aussie watched him go, arm raised as he scratched the back of his head and looked back toward the waiting Blu, "Sure, what is it, mate? Something wrong?"

Staring at him for a few moments, the Spy almost forgot what he was doing before he blinked twice and smiled, "Ah, oui. ..I jhust wanted to talk to you. You know? ..not business."

The Sniper quirked a brow. He thought he understood the meaning. Surely his friend was sick of all the politics -- the Reds had been visiting the pond incessantly, hammering him with tactical and personal questions to the point where some idle friendly chatter must have been well longed for. The Aussie was happy to oblige as he carelessly stepped into the shallow water and hoisted himself up onto the Blu's rock to sit nearby, "Tired of being a freak show, are you?"

Watching him tromp so directly into the water made the Bly Spy feel fuzzy inside. He didn't know what it was. Something about a person disregarding personal appearances just to be closer to you really did wonders toward making you feel special.

"Yes.. It has gotten razher tiring.."

The Sniper thumped him roughly on the back with his palm and grinned, "Aw.. Isn't all _that _bad is it? Oy'm sure it'll calm down soon."

"Zhe Scouts want me to throw a car.." the Spy insisted defeatedly.

"I want you to throw a car too."

"..you do?" he looked at him.

"Sure. Can you?"

"Well," he looked stupefied for a few seconds until words came to him, "It was never on my resume, Monsieur, but I would zertainly try for you."

"_That's_ the Spoy Oy know."


	32. Act 32: Scrambled Eggs

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

Allowing curiosity to get the best of him that night, the Red Spy had doubled back under his cloak and hid under the shadows of one of the gangly trees surrounding the pond near the two men he'd left behind only minutes prior.

What would be so important that it required alone time with the Aussie? Or rather.. what would be so _damning_.

He felt he had every right to be suspicious. Two defected soldiers, questionable origins, semi-solid motives but a definite ability to fall back on them. Were they traitors of two kinds? The Spy extinguished his cigarette in the dirt and narrowed his eyes as he watched and listened to their conversation. Surely he would find out soon enough what their true colors were..

So far it seemed to be innocent banter.

How are you, what is life like in the pond, is the weather getting too cold for you.. Hardly anything interesting to his suspicions.

But new ones became raised as he observed the Blu Spy's body language. The man shifted nearer and nearer to the Australian as they spoke, a tentacle curling up from the water in order to poke idly at one of the man's shoes before wrapping subtly around his ankle. The Red Spy waited to see what the Sniper would do, somewhat surprised to see him passing it off naturally and continuing to chatter about living arrangements and what sort of 'fish bowl' he might be interested in building when the water became too chilled outside.

"Heat would be nice," the Tentaspy admitted, his shoulder brushing the Aussie's rather blatantly as he leaned sideways toward the sharpshooter and examined the back of one of his hands.

The Sniper nodded in agreement, noting a second tentacle joining the first and drawing small circular patterns across the material of his pant leg. He took it for an idle fidget, leaning back on one arm and peering at the stars with a sigh, "Yeh, Oy guess I can talk to the Engineers. I tell you they'd all be artists if it weren't for this bloody war.." He grunted with amusement, gaze falling back to the Spy who had looked up from his lap, "You're not going to ask us for a little plastic castle, are you?"

Grinning toothily, the Blu patted his upper leg with a hand and snickered, "Non, I am not zhat sort of fish, mon Ami."

"Really? No Scuba Steve?"

Now he was just plain making light of the situation. It could be taken as belittling, but the Spy knew better -- it meant that he was gradually becoming more accepting of his rather unique condition to the point where making jokes felt OK. In fact, it put him in such a pleasant mood that he thought nothing of it when he said, "Only if it's you."

The Red Spy thought something of it. He thought a lot of it. And after watching the two of them for a solid half hour before stealthily following the Sniper back to base, he determined that the conversation was not one of conspiracy or treason. ..it was one of neediness -- one of affection.

And, as he later decided, infatuation.

Morning broke like a pair of eggs dropping into a heated pan. As a matter of fact, that's exactly what was happening in the mess hall. Everyone was up early with the exception of a roving Demoman or two. No one worried about them, however; the smell of battle would knock them awake at the drop of a grenade.

The Red Spy (wearing a delightfully pin-striped apron) stood at the stovetop, shuffling the eggs into fancy omelettes while the Red Sniper moved around getting him whatever he asked for, "We need pepper. Non, salt actually. Well.. bring both."

Needless to say, the Aussie was getting his morning workout.

"Why are you making breakfast for me anyway?" the man asked as he whisked by to deposit the pepper and salt shakers beside the stove while trotting to the fridge to retrieve cheese.

The Spy smirked, watching him struggle around the kitchen as his free hand flipped the grilled cheese sandwiches he was preparing on another pan, "I put some thought into zhe zhings you made for me while I was ill."

"Uh-huh, and?"

"Bring milk, one teaspoon, please."

The Aussie shook a warning finger at the Frenchman but disappeared to do as he was told. His answer was waiting for him when he got back, "_And_ I decided to show you how eggs _should_ be made."

"Croikey.. first the Engineer and now you. Am I really that bad at it?"

"Fetch plates."

The Sniper turned away from the man's smirking face with a growling yet light-hearted sigh. That Spy just refused to make things simple, didn't he?

In no time they were seated at a table together. The Sniper with his coffee and the Spy with his tea. The masked man steeped it, smirking as he heard the sounds of approval coming from the sharpshooter beside him. "Okay.. Okay, mate, you win. This is how eggs are done."

"Merci, merci.." he said, rather pleased to have his ego pet so early in the morning.

"Say, I wonder why the alarm 'asen't gone off yet?"

"Mm.. Perhaps zhe Blu team eez still struggling over zheir stoves?"

It was funny to think about, but it didn't sit properly in his stomach, "I dunno.. Maybe something's up?"

"Maybe," the Spy conceded with a delicate sip of his tea, "I suppose we will not know until zhe alarm calls us, oui?"

Surprisingly, the alarm did not call them.

Hours later, everyone milled around the base on their toes wondering what the hold-up was. Surely the fighting should have started by now.. An anxious Blu Scout? A stealthy Blu Spy? Wasn't anyone going to try and break the ranks to come after them?

"It just ain't right," said the Engineer, his brow furrowed over his goggles while he dropped a hand down on top of his Sentry.

The Red Sniper nodded in agreement. He was standing beside his Southern-born friend as they both gazed out the mouth of the opened hangar door. There hadn't been a peep from the Blu base since late last night when enemy trains were spotted coming and going from the area. No sneaky night attacks, no morning rush. Not even a message in a bottle spelling out what the intentions of the Blu team might be.

Just what were they up to?

They heard booted footsteps approaching them though only the Sniper looked to see who it was. The Engineer simply chewed at a piece of wheat and watched the silent battlefield with his steady and thoughtful gaze.

It didn't take long to realize that he was looking at a Soldier. Though the man lacked his helmet and usual rocket launcher, he could determine the man's class by the way he walked or, rather, the way he marched pridefully up to the hangar door and locked his feet together as he eyeballed the Aussie in front of him, "What's our status, son?"

"Enemy's asleep, mate."

The Soldier grunted, peering around the Sniper before approaching the doorway for himself and looking out across the empty space that separated them from the Blus. A damp tumbleweed rolled past his feet, accenting what the sharpshooter had said, "Asleep huh? Then we'll just have to give those cyan _scum_ a wake-up call." Raising a fist, the Soldier grinned and peered over to the Engineer who had begun to pay more attention to him.

"What's the plan, boss? I reckon we got enough scrap to raise up some Sentries now before the fightin' gets goin' real bad."

The Sniper watched the Engie rub his chin, a bit of grit from the Sentry painting a brown streak across his jaw as he did so. No doubt the mechanical mastermind was already plotting the best spots to mount the devices.

Beginning to pace, the Soldier shook a thoughtful index finger, "We can take them by surprise, men. We can.. beat down their front door!"

"You mean you want us to charge the Blu base? That's_ insane_, they've just gotten reinforcements, mate.." the Sniper protested.

The Soldier stopped, turning abruptly and marching up to the lanky man. He tried to glare him down, but the Aussie was considerably taller which made things.. tough. Realizing this, of course, the Sniper bent his knees a bit in order to appear shorter. Ego satisfied, the Soldier hollered, "Not if we pin them there first! It will be like picking off rats in a maze that we've built!"

"Except we didn't build their base," the Engie pointed out.

"Oh, well uh.. See it was a metaphor for.." the Soldier groped for words of sophistication.

"We might as well have built zheir base.." came a sudden voice. It startled all three men and forced them to look up the hangar hall to where a Spy was just stepping out of cloak. He was neutral in expression, eyes shut and a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. Until he opened his eyes again, the Sniper couldn't even identify who he was until he caught their hazel hue.

"And.. why's that mate?"

The Spy shrugged with one shoulder, a hand placed inside his pocket as he pulled out the cig and blew smoke, "I have been inside. Eet eez nearly identical to our own. We have a rough blueprint if you are interested?" He didn't even give the men a chance to answer though the Soldier looked ecstatic. The masked man had come prepared, a rolled-up sheet of poster paper pulled out from under his arm and unraveled for them to look at.

As they observed the various differences in layout, the Spy went on to explain that the other Soldiers and a few Pyros were already deciding their tactical formations and that many of the rest of the team had already asked about bum-rushing the Blus to make up for the morning's delay.

And when the siren still failed to go off, it became a finalized idea.

Spies and Scouts moving from group to group relaying messages and orders back and forth until the Red team stood poised and prepared to move as one unit. Scouts stood next to Pyros. Soldiers by Demomen. Heavies with Medics. Engineers with Snipers. And the Tentaspy? He was nowhere to be seen, his orders being kept in utter secret by the widely-dispersed Spies as everyone prepared to get moving.

Today they would all run together. Today they would be a team.

And so it began.


	33. Act 33: Flush 'Em Out

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

---

The Red Sniper found himself flanked unexpectedly by the blonde Scout as the team began darting forward.

It was the first sprint of the day into clear sunlight and open air -- he found it easy to match up to the young man's pace as they veered leftward and followed one another wordlessly up a creaking wooden ramp which lead to an unsafely-stacked pile of wooden beams, crates, and scrap metal curling like a hook around the side of the Blu base.

Down below, the Sniper could feel the wave of Red classes sweeping across the field, taking up positions of half-hearted stealth while the Heavies came in last, two of them bearing an inhumanely large battering ram in their meaty hands. Snipers picked spots near and far from the enemy battlements while Solders came in with covering fire and rockets to the towers flanking the suspiciously silent base.

It wasn't until the first three explosions rocked the Blu base that someone pulled the alarm to call their men to arms.

The Red Sniper slung his rifle up over his shoulder as the Scout whizzed past him and took a running jump up onto the swaying rubble that blocked their path. He glanced around rapidly before an excited grin came to his face and he looked down at the Sniper who had only just made it to the base of the blockade, "C'mon, I see a place, dude." He crouched swiftly and offered an arm, waiting for the Aussie to grab his wrist before pulling the older man up with him.

The Aussie seemed to have no trouble keeping up, swinging himself up onto the boiling metal with a crack from some of the layers below as the Scout stood and darted off ahead of him. He followed with competetive agility, something which caused the Scout to stare a bit once they came up to a short wall of downed wooden beams and the remains of a sniper's tower from a fight weeks ago. "Never told me you could move like that," he said as they both crouched and the Sniper took to setting up his gun.

"There's a lot people would tell you if you'd shut up and listen, mate," the man insisted, a friendly smirk tossed in the boy's direction as he dropped his eyes to the scope. "Draw them out for me, if you'd be so kind.."

"My. Fuckin'. Pleasure!"

A miniature dust devil stirred up from the ground beside him as the Scout bolted ahead and began hollering and taunting the enemy from their towers. They were already peppering the ground with bullets, hoping to hit not only him, but the rest of the faster men who had made it dangerously close to the Blu team's front doors. The hangars barely opened fast enough for a Blu Heavy as he came stomping out shooting. Several dents lunged out of the metal as it hit the top of the doorway, bullets from prematurely-triggered guns lodged deep in its frame.

From his crouch in the scrap yard, the Sniper remained focused, peering quickly from the Scout to the towers and all around the area.

There.

A blue sleeve briefly flitted between the slats of the wood beams in front of him. He quickly threw his scope rightward, following the path of motion and the sound of thundering footsteps until a clear shot presented itself.

The Blu Demo never even saw it coming as the Sniper squeezed the trigger and sent him toppling to the ground below the platform. Again his rifle swept the area, the Scouts calls reaching his ears as they suddenly became screams..

"CAN'T CATCH ME -- I'M JOE DIMAGGIO, YOU **FUCKERS**! HA HA _**HA**_! .. _**AAaaaaGGHH**_!"

All the Sniper could see was red and yellow -- blonde and blood. With precision that would haunt him later, he quickly took out a Soldier, a Heavy, and a Pyro, the tank of whom fell to the ground long enough for him to assess its location, aim, and use it to blow a second sniping tower right off its support beams. Men out in the field screamed warning to one another as it began to tilt, metal shrieking as it bent, snapped, and sent the entire structure hurtling toward the earth. A Blu Scout took a wooden beam right through the chest, his agony a mere matter of moments before the weight of the building came to crush him to death. Countless others took on shrapnel, one man even caught fire from the initial blast.

But the carnage was not in the Sniper's scope at the moment -- nothing was. He'd already slung his rifle onto his back and was on the move as he ran full force towards the last place he'd seen that Red Scout.

Smoke rode heavy off the felled tower; it provided decent cover, but it also obscured his goal.

It wasn't until he tripped over the boy's body that he found the Scout, his palms scraping raw in the dirt as he thrust his hands down to catch himself and turned about swiftly to get to his side on hand and knee. A grimace of anger and worry was painted on his sneering face as he grabbed a hold of the boy's arm and dragged him nearer. The Scout punched him -- hard.

"_Graaw_!"

Well, good, he was still alive. And upon seeing who he'd just decked, he flinched and let his back hit the dirt as pain wracked his body, "Fuck.. fuck FUCK. Dude? Ahh.. Ow, I'm sorry dude, please, get a Medic. F-fuck. I thought you were Blu."

The Sniper hissed, clenching his throbbing jaw as he fixed his glasses and grabbed the boy again. This time he pulled him up onto his shoulder, minding the Scout's obviously broken legs as he trotted under the platform he'd just been using as a sniping post and laying him up against a sandbag. He pointed firmly at him as he got to his feet and began to head off, "_Don't_ die, mate," he insisted.

Running as fast as his slender legs would carry him, the mint-eyed Medic ran with his head down behind a Pyro, the rays of his Medigun flaring around the fire-toting maniac as he charged straight down the line of battle bringing hell on Earth to any Blu that dared to step in his way. But as a sticky bomb flew in from the right and attached itself to the Pyro's tank, it became readily apparent that the Red Sniper wasn't the only tactician in this war..

**BLAM!**

The nose of the Medigun flew upward, slamming into the Medic's forehead while the blast threw him into the silo nearby. He stood there with wide eyes, the gun hitting the dirt as he stared forward and groped around with his left hand until it tenderly met his right shoulder. A large piece of propane tank metal protruded from the front of it, blood gathering around the twisted shrapnel as he gradually became aware of the fact that it was pinning him to the silo. He hadn't even registered the blast burns on his face yet, the dripping cut on his cheek failing to become noticed as well.

"MEDIC!"

Someone was calling him..

He looked around in a daze, blinking slowly as the wavering image of a Red team member came loping toward him. It was an Engineer -- a badly-wounded Engineer who ran with a definite limp and blood running out from under the right eye of his goggles. Despite the man's hinderences, he felt the metal being grabbed with that powerful gloved hand, felt it being ripped from his torn flesh as he and his Medigun were pulled to safety behind a stack of wooden pallets. Once the shock wore down, he fed on adrenaline, working together with the Engineer to secure his arm and use the gun to seal it shut.

From there it was a matter of healing the Engineer who defended them both with the Medic's own syringe shooter.

"Au! Watch where you are shooting!" a Spy shouted angrily as he ripped a syringe from his shoulder and slipped into the guise of an enemy Demoman. It was the Sniper's friend, his holographic version of the Demoman's weapon clutched convincingly in his hands with clipping so minor that it was seamless as he ran for the right hand side of the Blu Base.

Here he pretended to take cover, looking as though he was reloading as he came to rest beside a Blu Heavy.

"Aye, lad! Let's get oot thar and shoo them wot we've got!" he bellowed at the hulking man, inwardly rewarded as the Heavy grinned at him and turned his back on him to head out into the field.

He hastily cleaned his knife in the dirt, holding his arm out at his side as he ran ever nearer to the hangar doors..

The fighting seemed to be slowing down much faster than usual. The first wave of troops came, they fought valiantly.. and then.. Pausing near the doors, the Red Spy stood poised to kill the next man that dared to come out.. but no one ever came. He waited. ..and waited. No one. It was then that he dared to look away and observe the battlefield.

Several Blus had already been disarmed and now stood at the business ends of Red Guns, Red Sentries, and Red Kukris. Medics had time to tend the wounded, everyone was able to reload, and within thirty seconds, everyone realized what was happening.

Even the Blus started to become aware, their Scouts glancing expectantly at the hangar doors and.. waiting.

The Reds did not allow this for long.

One by one, they herded the Blus toward the front of the Blu base, forcing them all to stand together and stripping ammo and the smallest of weapons from those who still carried them. No one else was coming. There were no reinforcements.. There was no back-up.

"Let's move! GO, GO, GO! Get our men in there, flush 'em out!" a Red Soldier cried.

The Red Spy re-cloaked and slid easily inside the base. He found no men, no Sentries.. not even a Dispenser. A Scout and a Heavy followed him in, a Medic close behind as two soldiers and a Pyro joined them. Half the Reds remained outside, guarding the diminished Blus who had begun chattering among themselves.

'Where is everyone' 'What the hell, dude?' 'The fuck's goin' on!' 'Those god-damned cowards, they left us behind!' 'What happened to our team?' 'Is everyone dead already?' 'How could this happen??'

The Red Scout limped onto the scene, his arm slung around the tender shoulder of the rookie Medic who had since found and healed him. His Sniper friend was already into the Blu base, helping to sweep it and soon coming alongside the Red Spy who had abandoned his cloak and chosen to wear the disguise of someone very.. _very_ confused.

Reinforcements were not going to come.. because there was no one left. The dorms were barren, the labs empty, the intel burned.. He stood with a Soldier in the hollowed-out basement of the secret lab he had found only a week prior, a cold feeling in his stomach as he realized with dismay, "..Zhey've moved everyzhing."

That night the men of Blu were returned to their base. Locked in their own dorm rooms as prisoners of war, the Red infected every aspect of the base they could get their hands on. Disarmed and silenced by the sudden disappearance of more than half of their team, the Blus were strangely compliant. Even the Scouts had gone quiet, their pride broken and their fighting spirits nonexistent as the last of them shuffled blankly into his room and went to bury his face in his hands.

The Blu Spy captured those weeks ago remained at the Red Base though with the fighting at an abrupt standstill, he too was granted a locked dorm room. He was so alienated from the war that he was of no threat to anyone, the news of his team's defeat only serving to push him further from the reality of what was going on.

No one spoke for ten long minutes in the briefing room of the Red base. No one smoked. No one dared to break those ten minutes of complete and utter tranquility until the door shut behind the short Red Spy who had silenced the mess hall congregation just the other day. He walked with a subdued limp, gauze covering the deep gashes which had found a home in his face during the day's battle.

He lit the first cigarette, he said the first word.

"Jhentlemen.."

They could barely hear him as he stood just inside the door and lifted his eyes to them, adding.

"..eet is time to move."

---

_And that's it for this story. Too much of a cliffhanger? The sequel is already in the works._


End file.
